


Heathen

by Raddies_Ramblings



Category: Fantasy - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Anger, Bonding, F/M, Fear, Forced Pregnancy, Heavy Angst, Humour, Kidnapping, Lestat is still a Brat, Loneliness, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Multi, Passion, Plot, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Tension, Shame, Size Kink, Slow Burn, Smut, Temper Tantrums, Violence, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-11 07:43:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11143956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raddies_Ramblings/pseuds/Raddies_Ramblings
Summary: The Brat Prince returns to pen another tale. Set after the events that place in "Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis", we find our beloved Lestat (Hiddleston) more reckless, bored and troubled than ever in his role as Prince. Years of service on the throne have made him undeniably more spoiled but also more lonely. He can no longer rule with ease or grace and has become withdrawn and impulsive, unable to correctly serve or even care about his duties. Frustrated and desperate to escape, even his beloved Louis (Miller) cannot ease his troubled mind or reign in his ego.That is until a young fledging arrives that sets in motion tumultuous events that scares even the fearless Prince Lestat himself.The old ways are rapidly dissolving and a new era awaits...





	1. Foreword

**Author's Note:**

> The following story is based upon Anne Rice's work in The Vampire Chronicles. All major characters and their respective backstory's belong to Rice. New characters, such as Radha, belong to me. 
> 
> Whilst this story is based within Rice's World, it is not necessary to have read her work to understand or enjoy this piece. 
> 
> As this is my first story here I would really appreciate and feedback or comments. I really hope you enjoy reading!
> 
> The following is a brief list of the major characters in this story & who I imagine plays each roles. More will be added as the text develops. It's really more of a guideline than a strict rule, particularly for those who like to indulge in such imagining's ;) 
> 
> Characters:
> 
> Lestat de Lioncourt - Tom Hiddleston (As in Wallander style: curly blonde hair, but longer in this story)
> 
> Louis de Pointe du Lac - Ezra Miller

 

 

“Why did you wish me milder? Would you have me  
False to my nature? Rather say I play  
The man I am.”

**_The Tragedy of Coriolanus_ **

**_Act III, Scene II_ **

**** ****

****

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**_Foreword_ **

****

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It is I, Lestat. I am The Brat Prince himself, the Devil’s minion, the loveable rogue, the scoundrel who has plagued you with many tales; of deepest evil and deprivation, of insanity, of recklessness, of selfishness, of purest love and horror, of many forms of loving, of heaven and of hell. I, like the Brothers Grimm, untangle various myths and legends but have done so on a larger scale across the globe. However, unlike the Brothers Grimm I did this through rather greedy and often inadvertent circumstances but always in order to satisfy my impulsive curiosity throughout my many years on the Devil’s Road. Nothing much has changed there, but more on that anon. As you probably figured out, I have returned to pen yet another tale. This one, like its predecessors, is an important chronicle in our Dark History for various reasons which you will soon discover. But, before I delve into this radical and macabre tale I feel as though I owe you, my Beloved Reader, the warmest welcome I can offer along with a brief history of what I have been up to since our last encounter. If you would rather skip this emotional reunion, than do so now and begin at Chapter One. Though if you would like an intimate welcome from Yours Truly then please read on.

So, let me begin by confessing with all my heart that I have missed you dearly. No, these are not mere empty words I write but the truth. I missed our intimacy in our literary conversations - our meetings of the minds if you will. And I know you have missed me too. How could you not? Come now, don’t play shy with me. It is only you and I here now. You can be your most wicked and honest self with me.

Even if you have not familiarised yourself with the previous Chronicles I am certain that you have heard of me. Perhaps through friends or most likely on your radios, your TV’s, your movies, your computers screens, even slipped into your very literature. Even if you do not know me, then you know _of_ me. My tales are legendary, my beauty renowned, my skills and great gifts unparalleled. Egotistical though I sound, nevertheless, I would bet money (and I have plenty) that you have heard of me. More than that, I bet you have even dreamed of me, even in your darkest hours. You believe in me, don’t you? Say it, my dear one. Hmmm, still shy? No, you needn’t say it just now then, nor confess it to the world. In recent times, I have discovered that a surprising amount of you believe, yes really believe, in me. I have seen it in your minds and felt the strong conviction in your very beating heart. You cannot confess this aloud. I understand. Of course, you cannot. You would be ridiculed, isolated, perhaps even institutionalised. But we understand each other perfectly well. And I believe in you, my dearest. I love you and I missed you. You not only want me to be real, you need me to be. Let’s face it – I make life fun! Who else can claim to have lived such a rich life; being everything from a rock star extraordinaire, briefly a violinist, a singer, a writer, the original rebel, a murderer, a wolf killer, a wilful lover, a great admirer of dogs and so much more. Above all I was and remain a consummate survivor. I am the ultimate fearless warrior. All of these things I achieved in the guise of a handsome young man no more than twenty-four years old in appearance. Not bad, as far as living goes.

However, like all great warriors, a day must come to retire. I, Lestat, had to settle down. I had to use my skills to govern, and set aside my mischievous ways to support my fellow Brothers, Sisters and Lovers of Darkness. After all, who better to rule over the Damned than the very fiend who has travelled the Devil’s Road in such style? So, after centuries of being the vagabond, the traveller, the adventurer and even the suicidal hermit, I hung up my mantle as chaos personified. My Great Existence now comprised of royal domesticity, if you dare believe it. Yes, I became Prince Lestat, The Vampire Prince, or still indeed the Brat Prince, for those select few brave enough to call me this. I rule from my ancestral home in the Auvergne, France. And for a time, I was a happy prince. Perhaps happy does not aptly justify this. No, not really. I was not happy so much as distracted. I had the fate of my kin to save from utter annihilation. Without my intervention, we all risked burning alive – many of us sadly, were burned alive. Simultaneously, I also was very busy understanding, unravelling and trying to forge at least a cordial relationship with the ever-growing age-old and yet, recently discovered ‘humanoid’ race. Oh, and not to mention, I had to find a means to separate myself from my beloved Amel who contained our life core, which, briefly speaking, kept every living (for want of a better word) vampire alive. In short, I had princely duties that were important, interesting and took up all my time. But in the years that followed, when peace predominately followed, I grew bored as I am typically wont to do. In that boredom, our story commences. And the Devil always finds work idle hands – isn’t that how the mortal expression goes?

However, before I truly begin my tale I must state that for the record, as they say on nearly cop show on Television, every aspect of this story I have written is to the best of my recollection. And having the most potent blood running through my veins out of our entire kind, it is safe to assume that my recollection is the greatest in existence. Even the stories written from my fellow Brothers and Sisters point of view have been recorded with meticulous detail. I have documented and retold their stories and our conversations word for word. Not a single sentence of this book has not been under strictest scrutiny from their eyes. Their insults of me (and there are many) and their admiration of me (even more so, truth be told) have been recorded accurately. And as per usual, I mean recorded word for word. And I should also stress this novel will never be inducted into the Great English Canon. It does not try ‘to be among the greats’ as the academics say or adhere to Shakespearean standards or even strictly speaking have a definitive beginning, middle or end. No, like all my other works, this tale is told as I would speak it aloud, and as it unravelled before me. Its purpose is to put forward a new tale for our tribe, to learn more about ourselves, to understand more about our make-up and overall, not just tell of what it means to exist as a Vampire - Heaven’s no, I think we know this by now. No, this tale most reflects what it is to _live_ as one; what are our values, what are our true limits, who or what do we deem worthy of protection, and what, as a tribe can we do to make our existence pleasant and worthwhile. But alas more on that anon. As for the style of the writing itself; well I am of French origin. I speak in the old French style and learned and adapted my English through centuries of American and English communication, through newspapers, TV, radio, not to mention my fellow vampiric kin. Therefore, I have quite an unusual writing style, or so I’m told. But then again those of you who are familiar with me already knew that, didn’t you?

Finally, and this bit is quite important. Perhaps I should have opened with this, but there you go – my writing style is not quite structured. I urge you to pause and think at the following words; the courageous Prince Lestat of recent times does unmentionable things in this tale. Should you rather remember me as a tamed rebel, the noble leader of Darkness reigning with grace and dignity from France, then perhaps its best you avoid this book altogether. I do both great and terrible things here. You may not like me by this texts end. As the formidable Dante once said _lasciate ogne speranza voi ch'entrate – Abondon all hope, ye who enter_. I am not a hero – not truly. And I never will be. I am The Brat Prince. And despite the new roll I possess I have not changed much. I lived, spent my death and reigned as I always have; by doing as I please.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter One

**One**

**_Lestat_ **

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****

Over three years passed since I lost Amel. Or rather, to put it in a more literal and less dramatic way, it has been over three years since we went our physical separate ways. And whilst I feel comforted knowing that he finally resides with his kin, I know not what they are up to, or whether they still live in France. I neither know their current numbers, or even if they have any interests with our kind anymore. I think not as they have made no attempt to contact us since our last encounter even though our location is known to them.

In the beginning, I still found time to meet with my dearest Amel when our conflicting schedules permitted, but these opportunities become increasingly rare as more time passed. We would arrange our meetings far in advance, typically when he and I were fortunate enough to have a free evening. Usually, we would meet in some overcrowded café in Paris for a brief catch-up for a few hours. But how I savoured our little reunions for I was not royalty in his presence, merely Lestat! I could be giddy, talkative, even a little selfish if I wished. And we were free to talk of books, of music, of TV, and movies unhindered by responsibilities of our respective kinds. As time went on we, or mostly Amel, truth be told, began to talk of more physical hobbies, particularly sports – a field I confess I know very little about. He spoke of professional games that he loved to watch and his increasing participation in and love for swimming, of running, and of even skydiving. Essentially, he spent the last few of our meetings endlessly discussing the pleasures he now can enjoy in his own body and seems determined to savour them all. I did not stop him from talking about this. How could I? He was so excited to be truly living his life and I did not want to spoil it. However, Amel was starting to pull away from me. He cancelled our last few meetings confessing he was extending his vacation in Hawaii to snorkel, he was snowboarding in Sweden or had last minute plans to Shark Cage Dive in Australia.

And this hurt me personally because it became clear that Amel does not miss me anymore. Though I know he will always love me for welcoming him into my body, I can sense we are growing apart. And I hated this. Happy though I was to witness him being so excited to have a body of his own, I often find myself greatly missing his presence within me. I had had for some time, his constant support, guidance, company and praise. Despite the turmoil he caused he was dear to me because of this. Greedily, I missed our intimate connection. And now, as we met less and less, I felt somewhat alone as of late. Undoubtedly, I was surrounded more than ever by countless people, but still I felt alone, empty almost, without his presence in me. Without our reunions taking place anymore I have solely devoted all my time to my ‘princely duties’. I as Prince Lestat was leader of our tribe, so to speak.  I was responsible to solve the different issues that plagued the vampiric world and bring the old customs and practices into the modern age. But this task was colossal, and seemingly never-ending. Vampires had never attempted such a large scale organised government or regime before. It was a complex system. My regular court, so to speak, helped me with my duties, with much of my nearest and dearest fulfilling a vital role within what I mentally deemed the ‘Royal Vampiric Family’. This Family is large, operating both in and outside the castle walls and we have developed various task forces and departments to deal with different areas and issues. Each of my nights would typically involve meeting the following people or completing the following tasks;

For instance, Seth, Fareed and Viktor are our tribe’s main medical researchers, doctors and consultants. They work from their large facility in the Californian dessert and update me frequently via computer screens or occasionally in person to discuss advances in their medical procedures and discoveries. I confess, I understand very little of medical or scientific talk, but my son, Viktor, takes to explaining it step by step for me. My beloved daughter Rose left with them, and attended night classes to obtain her Master’s degree in English Literature at the University of California. I dearly miss my babies Rose and Viktor, and my only comfort is that they have the constant love and support of each other. Yet, the castle seems silent and empty without them. Their absence along with Amel’s was hard to take. They were perhaps the only beings who did not see me as royalty and therefore, did not expect such refined conduct from me. In hindsight, this explains much of my later behaviour, but I digress.

 My beloved David Talbot is my Chief Advisor, who deals with social, economic and educational affairs, typically travelling all over the world. His team is the largest with some ten vampires under his command. His role is to create a bridge of understanding and explain to those who wish to adapt our laws of how to communicate, survive and adapt as a vampire in a modern world. He always coordinates with legislative authorities who work from the castle and typically has two senior assistants to help him in this rather big task; Pandora and Thorne. David and his team also gather intelligence by tracing and scouting suspicious activity in the mortal news that may harm our secrecy or safety. Therefore, it is not uncommon for him to consult with the Talamasca from time to time, though he truly hates resorting to their help.

Within the castle, our Vampiric Family is diverse and active. The cherub-like Benji is our Communications and Media Expert. Benji addresses and updates our tribe with any important news or developments or simply provides a platform for vampires to share stories and experiences across the world. His podcasts are always available and his broadcasts go out nightly from his media room – a shocking electronical cave as I found it, full of gadgets and every item he needs to communicate with our vampiric kin all over the world. Understand, Benji’s role is immensely significant as it creates a sense of a united kin. It offers hope to those who feel isolated or alone and reaches even Older ones if they choose to listen. More often than not, Benji used his time on air to offer support to struggling vampires. He frequently invites me on his radio shows. He believes my voice as Prince is important for all to hear as it creates unity with any vampire from any walk of life, not just those of an older age or who live in the court. Benji was nearly always right in his advice and suggestions. He was loved dearly by all those who knew him, including me. Benji’s show regularly had live music too, performed by Antoine and Sybelle, our current castle musicians in residence. Antoine and Sybelle usually performed at the various dinners, dances and balls held in the castles on special occasions, talks or welcoming’s. I am also heavily involved in the organisation of such large-scale events. Sometimes our foreign guests consisted of musicians who would agree to play live on Benji’s show.

And, who else was there? Oh yes of course – the more tedious and time-consuming of duties were those taken up here in the castle by the scholars, bankers, assistants, planners, organisers, managers, directors and so on. In short, this tedious list of occupations ensured everything that the new vampiric world was trying to build would run as smoothly as possible. They were literally the brains of the operation, whereas I, well I, truth be told was merely the face. Just like in the Wizard of Oz, behind the curtains was where the real action was at and where my castle team ran things smoothly. I was only Oz, the alleged great and terrible, who acted and spoke when told. Or at least, that’s what it felt like lately. So, who were behind the curtains, you ask? Well let me tell you. There was my sweet Marius, truly the great scholar of the Vampiric Royal Family if there ever was to be one. He acts as an occasionally magistrate, is my close confidant and creates our constitution - the ‘Dark Gift Declaration and Decrees’ or some such title (I truly forget). He does this with the assistance of Daniel, an experienced but fairly new to the Blood writer and valuable asset in creating a more modern tone in the decrees. And then there is Armand, my Chief of Protocol who supervises the daily schedule and any official visits. Armand basically tells me when and where I am needed. And finally, my dear Sevraine. Sevraine was my Secretary General and budget advisor. She is essentially my right-hand woman who supervises all departments of the court. She was the central cog, so to speak, that ensured things were running smoothly. Also, as leader of our little ‘Royal Vampiric Family’ I, yes I, the great impulsive reckless Lestat, had to learn to compromise with vampires over more difficult rules. And this is where Sevraine, Armand and Marius, the more persuasive advisors, also offered vital support.

 Now, I had other duties too. The most time consuming of which was public-duties. I must always be ready to welcome vampires to the castle. Whether they were important or not, fledging’s or the Elders, I would have to greet them. Indeed, even if they requested an Audience with me, I must try to accommodate that too. This means I am always at permeant resident in this castle. I have never even spent a singles day sleep elsewhere in three years. And this does not seem likely to change. I have ledgers full of appointments and meetings with the above for the foreseeable future. I am in constant correspondences, handwritten or electronic, with others such as those above on their private or public missions, or vampires who merely want a hand-written response from the Prince himself.

So, yes your beloved Lestat has finally ‘grown-up’, so they say. Night in, night out my duties consist of consultations, public meetings and active correspondence. After centuries of reckless and impulsive living, I was mature now, giving my every waking moment to try and do good, make good for our vampire kind. No more adventures, no more crazy stories or fights. I was a responsible vampire. In the eyes of my people, I was reformed. I was the vampiric hell-raising version of Shakespeare’s Prince Hal, now turned honourable King Henry, so to speak.

However, let me share a secret with you, dear beloved reader. I began to hate it! Being a Prince was fun for roughly five minutes before I got truly bored. The life of a Prince was harder than I thought. Give me life or death conquests, quests, or adventures and I’ll be there! Give me a stage, a theatrical audience, a truly worthy death-defying quest and by God, I’ll show the world what I’m made of! I will thrive but inevitably rise above any task, any adventure, any challenge. But expect me to sit still and offer me nought but routine for over three years and, as I am finding out, I will slowly die. This is worse than being mortal surely! But I have given myself fully to this task and succeeded without (much) complaint for years. However, I felt worn thin. I started to grow restless, easily distracted, vexed or bored. Without Rose, Viktor or Amel, I had no company, no chance to be myself.

Tonight, was no exception.

‘Lestat?’ a voice cried out from the opposite side of the room. No ordinary room of course, but an exquisite ballroom, one of several in the castle, which was now being used as a conference room. A conference room, I ask of you! In a castle, an actual vampiric castle nonetheless! ‘Is there a need to welcome the Ukrainian tribe or should we leave it as telepathically accepted?’ A pretty voice this one, I thought, looking up distractedly. Ah yes, the beautiful Sevraine, was speaking to me now. An Older vampire, body as smooth and hard as marble. Over five thousand years in the blood Sevraine was, but still beautiful as a marble angel and worldly, intelligent and graceful even under pressure. In short, she was the perfect General Secretary. She stood by a dark wooden table in the middle of the room, arms gracefully folded as she looked at me coldly. She could be a statue she stood so still and unyielding. Her skin however gave her way, it seemed to shine almost luminescently. The large windows behind her were the deepest black reflecting the night sky. She looked foreboding now as she stood there. Ah yes, dear Sevraine knew that I was bored several minutes into this meeting. My mind had been wondering for hours now. I would be lost without her counsel in these meetings, truly. She directed them lately as I found myself growing increasingly silent. Her light white gown gave her an ethereal appearance. Several vampires seated around the richly polished and specially crafted mahogany table. Their frames were easily visible by the light given out from the three gilt-bronze and enamel candelabras that lined the length of the table. The rich antique turned office desk, another mental shudder, were matched with rows of high-backed mahogany chairs each with a comfortable leather dark green seat. My ‘throne’ yes, heavens above I had a throne, was at the head of the table. It was taller than the others, more intricately detailed and with a peaked wooden back tinted with gold. How I hated it! Over three years and I had yet to sit in the bloody thing. One or two other faces at the table I recognised, but most I did not. Armand was there, and Marius, both with heads bowed and reading through files and files of parchment and papers. No sign of Pandora, off on a break, I believe, to see the sights of her old town. David was abroad with Thorne. No sign of Gabrielle either. But then again, she had been missing for over three years now and though initially excited by the court set-up and too see her beloved son at the throne, she soon left. Though I expected no better. My mother and fledging did not truly belong in constant company, she preferred her own. Not to mention she had a deep-rooted hatred for castles, this one in particular. Undoubtedly she was currently out in some wild jungle or ancient city, exploring new terrains, seeing as of yet undiscovered creatures and places. How I envied her! The others at the table were not so familiar and I was too lazy, or frankly, too uninterested to search their minds for their names. I rarely used the mind gift now – what was the point in dull routines such as this? They had told me there names several times, I was certain, but meeting new people or hearing new names soon became tedious. I learned the most diplomatic response to being introduced to new people was to smile and nod. I rarely left any meeting knowing any new names. All these vampires meeting before me were talking back and forth lowly, ruffling through papers to confirm certain details, some had laptops, others taking notes with pens and paper.

I sighed disheartedly, what a beautiful floor they worked upon, the marble – yes, real marble – painted with real gold at the edges of each marble slab. Now it was the floor, not for great dances or balls, no it was the floor, I shuddered again, for an office. And the dome ceiling above us, the very one which I had painstakingly supervised in its creation to replicate Michelangelo’s very ceiling in the Sistine Chapel, this brilliant masterpiece was absolutely wasted on them. I shuddered once more and went back to playing my music and giving in to my meandering thoughts. There was a grand piano in here and ten minutes into our discussions I slipped away from the table, and the meeting.

Soundlessly, I had sauntered over to the piano, flexed my fingers rather dramatically and slipped into Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries under the lights of the exquisite rose gold painted Marie Antoinette chandelier above me. Admittedly, this piano version did not hold a candle to the full orchestral version but my, just to feel the excitement, hear it in the air! Such a gift was music. And this piece! Oh, this piece was full of adventure, of endless possibilities that took me away from endless meetings and decisions and responsibilities. I played it repeatedly, steadily going faster each time, increasing the tempo at preternatural speed.

‘There are only three in existence in Ukraine with the Dark Gift,’ Sevraine continued, her voice rising slightly to raise over the music.

‘Marvellous,’ I answered, with a full smile, playing on without pause as I spoke. ‘Better than none at all, is it not?’

‘Lestat, we must form peace with all tribes, no matter size and create an accurate census of our kind worldwide,’ Sevraine explained, one of her hands now curling into the back of the wooden chair as though making a controlled effort to restrain her temper.

‘Does it matter?’ I asked dryly, not bothering to look up now as I continued playing, my eyes closed almost wearily. ‘We extended the invitation. They come or they do not. Do we really need to go to such lavish lengths for three Ukrainian vampires who wish us and our rules to Hell?’

‘Lestat, we must form discussions by welcoming new tribes here to show them we mean no harm,’ Sevraine explained for what was most likely the hundredth time.  

I sighed wearily, having heard this last night and the night before and so on and so forth from everyone I spoke to at these meetings. ‘Perhaps a formal written letter would make them feel more welcome?’ Sevraine suggested with a forced calm façade. ‘Lestat, you could write it personally.’

‘Of course,’ I replied with a little too much attitude and sarcasm. ‘I’ll add it to the list of ten thousand other things to be done by the end of the week.’

Sevraine paused, perhaps collecting herself and her temper. ‘I understand you are busy, my _prince_ ,’ she emphasised the word dripping with a sort of loathing now that made me smile inwardly. ‘But at least show some excitement. They are willing to visit whereas three months ago, they refused to even speak to us. We must keep the dialogue open and polite.’

I did not answer but continued playing Wagner, smiling openly. Admittedly, I was trying to start a fight now, goading her into losing her temper. Childish I know, but it was the only fun I could manage these days. I was trying to piss off or anger everyone I crossed and smile as they tried to control their temper. For who would lose their temper around their beloved Prince? 

‘Aren’t you the least bit excited at our progress?’ Sevraine queried. ‘We have made such progress for our people. You have done such great work. Do not be tempted to let things slide now.’

‘I’m very excited. Do not fret, dear Sevraine,’ I answered and I slipped into playing Chopin's Marcha fúnebre with a dramatic flair. ‘I am positively elated with this news too. Can’t you tell?’ I could hear Marius laugh and tried not to laugh myself. As usual, my laughter tended to turn hysterical quite quickly and this was all well and good when I was the ordinary hellcat Lestat, but Prince Lestat could not break down into an absolute loon, no matter how much he craved to.

I was saved from outright scolding by Sevraine by the door opening at the far side of the ballroom now turned office. My beloved Louis stood at the intricately carved, double oaken doors, looking slightly confused, his brilliant eyes darting between the table and me at the far side of the room. I continued playing the funeral march as Louis walked across the large beautiful ballroom with an envelope in hand with his usual slow grace. ‘Lestat,’ he nodded at me before politely nodding at the group in the middle of the room curtly, a slight respectful smile evident on his animated face.

Again, the urge to laugh was overwhelming. I continued playing rather dramatically, keeping my eyes closed until Louis reached me. ‘Why do you disturb us here?’ I chastised teasingly, not daring to look at Sevraine but still playing the piano but my voice shook with restrained laughter. ‘Can’t you see we do great work here? The people’s work!’

‘I need a word,’ Louis pleaded. He wore his usual tattered black clothes, his face slightly paler than usual. I wondered idly when he last fed or why he didn’t bother wearing the newest clothes I had specially ordered and had tailored made for him. His white skin looked drawn and eerily white, almost like the moon itself. Though his brilliant green eyes were as beautiful as ever, tinted with violent, utterly unnatural of course, and full of sorrow, but lately they acquired a warmth. A change had cover Louis in recent years but it was impossible to see what or why it came. His long black hair was ragged but pulled back from his face.

‘Please take him, Louis,’ pleaded Sevraine, from the far side of the room. ‘Before I’m tempted to set the sun itself upon our dear Prince!’

I stood up and made a fake bow, my eyes catching Sevraine and I waved my hand slowly as any gentlemen would. Her eyes glowered at me. ‘Until tomorrow my beloveds,’ I said with a sweet smile. Sevraine merely snarled but Marius offered a smile. Armand barely noticed the exchange at all.

I left the room with Louis and we walked up the marble ornate staircase to the east tower which was my living quarters.

‘Really Lestat,’ Louis said with a slight touch of humour in his voice. ‘The funeral march of all things.’

I started to laugh. ‘Dear Louis, I felt I was playing at my own funeral,’ I confessed, delighted to be out of the ballroom turned office. ‘They discussed budgets with me, and diplomatic welcoming’s. Dear God!’ I suddenly cried. ‘Am I no longer to be the Brat Prince? But merely the run of the mill office manager?’

We finally reached my quarters and I unceremoniously set myself down on my couch, legs spread wide and closed my eyes. ‘I need a holiday!’ I moaned dramatically, hands cupping my face, golden curls spilling listlessly around my face. ‘I’ve done nothing but princely duties night in and night out for over three years – actually nearly four years now. Louis, I’ve forgotten who I am!’

‘You chose this position,’ Louis answered standing above me, dashing violet-green eyes probing my own. ‘You knew such a role came with great responsibility. And you are still Lestat, the annoying Brat Prince and moaner,’ Louis added, a quiet humour to his tone. ‘Though with greater influence and affluence amongst our kind.’

‘Easier for you to say in the role of the humble messenger! And what good is money if I have no time to spend it. Am I still even Lestat?’ I cried out bitterly, feeling frustrated and misunderstand, peering out at Louis between my hands now. ‘I don’t even feed as a vampire anymore. I have my victims pre-selected for me. I should grow fat with the amount they have ready each night before I begin my duties!’

Louis laughed now but that made me angrier. ‘I do not jest! I do not even need to feed anymore. Truly, I do not. Yet my servants insist on treating me like royalty!’

‘You are royalty now, Prince Lestat,’ Louis said, looking sincere but his eyes reflected his humour. ‘They simply want you well-nourished for all your busy schedules throughout the night.’

 I snarled in frustration. ‘I am no better than a lazy mortal! Or a domesticated house cat. I sit and sit and sit just to listen, all night, every night. I only drink the blood nightly out of sheer boredom, desperate to feel any kind of thrill! Everything good is off limits for me, or I no longer have the time to do it. I do not laugh anymore Louis, nor lust, nor hunt the evil-doer, nor dance, nor sing, nor tread the boards, nor explore…’ my voice trailed off. I was close to losing my temper or crying. In short, I was close to appearing the spoiled brat.  

Louis eyes changed as I spoke. He seemed now to be no longer laughing at my behaviour but truly worried by it. How long had it been since we were alone together, truly alone? He had not heard me bemoan this role like this before now. ‘Lestat, you chose to this role, it came with costs. You will adapt – you always do.’

I began to murmur so low that Louis was certainly straining to hear me. ‘Why did you wish me milder? Would you have me false to my nature? Rather say I play the man I am.’

‘Agh!’ Louis sighed, rolling his eyes. ‘Of course, you would make of this honour a tragedy. Be as Coriolanus if you must, Lestat. No – be better perhaps than he. For you did what he could not. You did not allow pride to get the better of you,’ Louis sighed, his brilliant eyes temporarily dulled. ‘You took the role to serve the people and fulfilled it with such grace. Do not fall now – you have come so far. But you can take a break. Even Princes take holidays. Arrange a period of leave, the others would manage. You need it. Everyone else has left for breaks from time to time.’

My eyes opened and I guarded Louis sceptically. A break? Hmmm, now that could work, just think what a few weeks or months to myself could do! Seeing the world, answering to no one, no schedules or meetings. ‘Perhaps that’s a good idea,’ I answered, hands falling to my lap and leaning back into the couch. ‘I certainly need it. I can feel my attention waning with every meeting or appointment.’

‘You said you would take a brief leave once things settled in the castle and a routine was established – perhaps it’s time.’

I nodded suddenly feeling energised. ‘Yes! A break! To my beloved New Orleans, or Miami, even the Caribbean would be appealing. I might even meet Gabrielle. You should join me, Louis!’ I offered, feeling animated now – like my old self again, brimming with an unbridled sense of adventure and endless possibilities.

Louis beamed. ‘Of course, Lestat. But it will take time to organise,’ he explained as I looked quickly crestfallen at his words. ‘Just a week or two to assure your appointments and duties are diligently divided in your absence.’

‘I understand,’ I said with a sigh, leaning back into the couch. ‘Anyway, what brings you here so close to dawn?’ It was just over an hour away and Louis was usually settling down by now with a book or listening to music in his chambers.

He waved the little envelop he still carried in his right hand.

‘Another?’ I asked, slightly exasperated. Louis had taken over reading my mail. He was particularly good at sorting out the important from the trivial, the fan mail from the Elders, or even the outright rude letters all for me to reply to. He would even sometimes pen replies if I could not find the time or the patience as was often the case.

‘Yes,’ Louis answered, sounding slightly confused. He sat beside me on the couch, opening the letter and scanning it quickly with preternatural speed even though I suspected he knew it by heart already. ‘The same fledging, no more than two, perhaps three years in the blood. Always polite but very nervous about going into much detail of their life or origins.’

‘Of what are they frightened of?’ I asked, wondering why this fledging insisted on the regular contact. This had to be the sixth or seventh in recent weeks.

‘Of other vampires,’ Louis stated flatly. ‘Whoever created this fledging did a poor job. They explained none of our rules or customs but this young one knows of you through Benji’s shows of course.’

 ‘Well whoever it is, they are welcome here,’ I answered with a slightly bored and tired wave of my hand, ‘I’ve said so in the other replies. We can provide shelter until they understand the rules. We can teach them all they need to know. And we should discover who recklessly made a fledging and abandoned them. This vampire should be called to account for his or her poor actions as a maker.’

‘I’ve explained all this,’ Louis said with a shrug. ‘But they are scared to come here and meet others. This fledging wishes an Audience with you and you alone. They have reached the area now and ask you accommodate them at your earliest convenience.’

‘Millennial fledgings! Why are they so difficult?’ I asked, my eyes narrowed in annoyance. ‘So demanding. Surely you can go to them and ask them what is wrong?’

‘Lestat – I think you should see them,’ Louis said with an apologetic sigh, ‘and they are not demanding. This one is very polite and patient. It is you who has put off this Audience for weeks.’

‘Mon dieu!’ I exclaimed. ‘Why, they could be a crazy fan, a demented fledging or some other fiend. Why should I – where would I even get the time?’

‘This is only a fledging. I think you can handle it,’ Louis said, with a little shy smile. ‘And as for time, well you haven’t held any Audiences in weeks. You can make time. Besides, the tone…it reminds me of you. They know what they want and they are stubborn as hell to get it. Patient, yes. Kind, yes. But stubborn. I offered to meet this fledging myself but they requested you alone. They will come to you here, if you allow it. They’ve made no threats, no signs of malice. Although in this most recent letter they mention a great crime has been committed. They insist that the leader of our clan would be interested in their story. Thus, you should be the first to know of it.’

‘And how does that remind you of me?’ I snapped, suddenly tired of this whole damned night and longing for bed.

Louis grinned, showing his brilliant white teeth and little sharp fangs. ‘They are kind, eloquent – no perhaps charming would be a better word in their letters. But they also are  stubborn – especially for a fledging, slightly pompous, a little sarcastic attitude and at times, the tone is humours in response, despite the gravity of the situation that the fledging’s letters suggest. And you have shown signs lately of wanting more than meetings and discussions and the like. You said, even just now, that you are bored with the court. To physically help someone might do you good.’

I sighed, agreeing with Louis somewhat. Maybe it might help to directly involve myself in assisting a fellow vampire. ‘Fine,’ I answered. ‘For your peace of mind, Louis I will do this. And it may do me good to actually help another. But you know this is probably some half-loon fan who wants a selfie or some such nonsense! Have a letter sent to this fledging to be here at first nightfall. I will tell the stewards to expect company. But I cannot leave to go to them alone. If this fledging leaves by first sundown then they may avoid most prying eyes here in the castle. I can grant an Audience for a brief period here in my private quarters. But then I have other appointments to attend. That’s the best I can do.’

Louis nodded, his eyes scanning the darkness outside the large windows that was barely starting to lighten. ‘I’ll send the response at once by letter, I have just enough time. But treat this fledging with respect, promise me that you will. You have been so rash lately. And they don’t deserve to have their tragedy trivialised by you. I think it was made under some horrible circumstance. That’s what I read from the tone of the fledging’s letters. Surely you understand what that feels like, Lestat?’

I paused, remembering the circumstances of my own death and change. The horrible Magnus’ means of changing me, literally forcing me from my bed, taking me from my home, terrifying me to the point of madness and death and then changing me, only to leave me alone with no real clue how to survive. ‘I will listen to this fledging’s tale Louis, I promise,’ I answered solemnly. ‘And offer help if I can.’

Louis looked grateful before gracefully rising to take his leave.  

Finally, I climbed the spiral staircase to my bedroom with an almost weary mortal stride. Here, I was free even though there was not long left to enjoy my solitude. I closed the heavy curtains telepathically as I stripped naked and climbed into the sheets. Yes, I was a pampered prince sleeping in silk sheets but they felt so good against my naked skin that I just relished in the sensation. The fire was burning out but the room was very slowly lightening anyway with the rising sun. The fire of course was mostly for ambience. I loved the look and feel of it but had no real use for it anymore. The curtains were closed so tightly not a ray of the direct sun light could enter the room.

Laying in my silken sheets I began to plan excitedly about my holiday and where I would go. Overall, I was merely excited to be leaving the castle and my duties as a prince. But I was getting ahead of myself, this was some weeks away. Plenty of time to plan and organise this trip. I started to think of my schedule for tomorrow night. Meetings with Seth via computer screen, another meeting with Sevraine and I needed to talk on Benji’s radio show as it had been such a long time since I had done so. Ah, but of course. I had also just promised to meet the mysterious fledging first. Shouldn’t take too long though. As mysterious as he/she probably thought their tale of making was, it was most likely not unique. I would offer sympathy, support and hold their maker accountable. Inevitably, my thoughts drifted. Just as darkness crept over me I wondered why this fledging was so insisted on seeing me alone. I was not nervous, no of course not. I had the most powerful blood of all our kind in my veins. I could wipe out this creature without a second thought if they meant to cause trouble. Not to mention the Elders and other vampires who currently resided here or who were visiting that could equally destroy such a weak new creature. But why did this fledging want me to hear its tale the most. Why, if it truly was so nervous and scared of the others did it insist on meeting with the very Prince of the tribe? I could not figure it out. I could barely think at all as the sun rose. I fell into that death like sleep where no questions, princely duties or other thoughts could reach me.

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter Two

**Two**

**_Lestat_ **

****

****

I awoke the following evening just as the sun set across the walls of my magnificent bedroom. It was the most lavishly decorated and therefore nicest bedroom in the entire castle. After all, as I so often justified to myself after seeing the very poorest of our kind pass through the castles main doors, if this castle was to be my gilded prison, then why not create the nicest cell in the joint? Similar leaders of the human world lived in the same way, didn’t they? The pope himself lived in the Apostolic Palace of the Catholic Church, the American President in the White House, and of course, the English Royal Family in Buckingham Palace. Sometimes, I felt guilty for having such extravagance, but I consoled myself with one simple fact that made me different from my human leader counterparts; this castle was my ancestral home. I grew up in this castle, it was my birth right. The money used to restore it was my own, not taken from enforced taxes or charities. It was purchased and renovated by me and shared with all who passed through it free of charge. I ruled as Prince from here and gave shelter to all those who visited. Only this East Tower I claimed and why should I not have a little haven of my own? A small request, surely.

 I loved to lounge here in this East Tower whenever I could – it was my true home in the castle so to speak. My bedroom was at the top of this tower and was the most splendid large circular space that had adapted the classical French rococo style. The domed ceiling of the room was quite high and painted with saints, angels, cherubs and if you stared long enough, you would find Lucifer too. He was based upon my own sketch of the being and I insisted to a somewhat bemused artist that Lucifer be placed alongside the other angels amongst the natural clouded and sky blue surroundings. I had added two marble columns to emphasise the high domed ceiling and these were at either side of my four-poster bed. These columns were intricately decorated with gold leafing’s tinged on the exterior with emerald green that spread like ivy. These Greek revival style of columns and their ivy designs were my subtle nod to my beloved New Orleans.

The furnishings of the room were rich and ornate and took years to find or have specially crafted. They were frequently ornamented with gold. The high ceilings were met with plastered trimmings intricately designed. A gilded mirror hung above the exquisite marble fire place by the left of the double mahogany doors of the room. My four-poster mahogany bed was draped with light lacing, now elegantly draped back and the sheets were grey and silver silk. This queen-sized bed was the centre point of the room, nestled between the two columns. At either side of these were large ceiling to floor gothic windows that opened as doors. These double doors led out to balconies and gave way on either side to breath-taking views of the surrounding French countryside and mountains. The pièce de résistance of this room was an ornate French Marie Antoinette twelve light chandelier, complete with an abundant of hand-cut crystal droplets, and lit by actual candles which cast a dazzling luminesce over everything in the room. It was at the very centre of the domed ceiling. So beautiful was this chandelier that I soon ordered two more to be specially made for the foyer of the castle. No surprises here, really. Prince or not, I’m still Lestat the snob, who enjoys fine things.

As for my possessions, they were few in the room. Along the immediate right curved wall of the circular room was a bookshelf, engraved into the curved wall itself and nearly bursting with my most dear and favourite of texts. Beside this lengthy bookshelf was my baroque work desk that held my rarely used laptop, my mobile phone, and a scattering of papers. The desk drawers held chargers, wires for appliances I probably did not even possess anymore and my ipod, along with a few CD’s and DVD’s. Along the left side of the room was a grand marble fireplace followed by my lavish walk-in-wardrobe, which was mercifully concealed by a miraculous sleek doorway that blended seamlessly when closed with the duck-egg colour of the room. I had Persian rugs, ornamental vases and an oil lamp that still worked added to the room recently, making it more personal and homely. Spoiled I was now, perhaps more than ever, and I knew it. The evidence was everywhere. I could scarce myself believe that I once slept in crypts or graveyards or underground.

My sparse yet sinfully expensive possessions allowed the room to have a spacious feel to it. I tried to add a touch of nature by having I arranged bouquets of flowers on my desk and on the bookshelves. These ranged from exquisite roses to lavender to lilies. The mixed rich polish, perfume, papery and earthy scents of these possessions were as usual comforting to me as I woke. Silly, I knew as it was for me in the first time in my existence to treat my bedroom with the same reverence as a teenager would; as a place of solitude, of worship of dearest things or practiced hobbies, I truly needed that place. It was the only place I had of complete privacy or quiet. Not even Louis was permitted here without my permission. And it had become one of my few only rules that my bedroom in the East Tower was strictly off-limits. No one truly minded as this was the general unspoken rule of all who stayed within the castle. Vampires do like privacy in their sleeping quarters. And I treasured my bedroom now.

And so I lay now in my beautiful bedroom, in that perfect surreal state between dream and consciousness, merely content to listen to the birds singing their final sweet thrills and delightfully pleasant calls back and forth in the surrounding French countryside as the sun went down. I could hear rain falling too, so soothing the noise. Soon I had to force myself to snap out of my dreamy state by standing up to open the heavy curtains of the large windows at either side of the bed. The sun was setting in the west, so there was no fear I would be burned, even slightly, by its glares. I watched the rain fall against the castle walls to the right of my tower, and fall heavily over the forests and mountains. Something so beautiful and sad about a rainy twilight evening. The sky grew darker and the rain even heavier. I saw a flash of lightening blaze across the heavens; an instantaneously forking streak of blinding white light seemingly striking down upon far distant mountain range. I usually savoured these precious moments of sunset, but tonight was even more unique with a storm raging outside. I was one of the few vampires fortunate enough to wake just as the sun started to make its descent, which provided me with an additional forty minutes or so to wake when all others slept. I immensely enjoyed watching the rain and lightning now in solitude, particularly as I knew these precious moments would not be subject to scheduled meetings. Most vampires usually did not even open their eyes until the sun had set and darkness fully prevailed the sky. This rare anomaly amongst our kind also meant I usually had more time to enjoy the ebbing dawn too.

Typically, I spent this period reading or reflecting over the day. But now, I stood away from my beautiful mahogany four poster bed, naked and watching the rain pattering heavily against my gothic windows. Truly a nice sound, the rain, I thought distractedly. It had a steady musical rhythm I soon was lost to. For some time, I watched the lightning and heard the low rumble of thunder as though the heavens themselves were arguing. I smiled as I briefly faintly remembered fearing these storms as a little boy in this very castle. I was terrified that they were in fact monsters or giants in the sky and so I would hide, in my bedroom and wait until the sky stopped thundering and roaring. But now, I found this loud, visual and powerful display of nature enchanting. I wondered briefly if I could skip my scheduled duties in the night ahead and simply watch the night sky, or go for a walk in the rain unhindered or read a book in the living room downstairs, curling up in my favourite worn leather armchair by the fire with only the noise of the storm battering against the castle for company. Perhaps I could do as so many mortals did on TV or movies, and ring in sick to work. The idea was so preposterous that I laughed out loud at the thought of Armand, or even Marius receiving a telepathic message indicating I was ill. I must positively stay in bed for tonight and unfortunately miss our meetings. It was not so much I even hated my job to be honest. It was just the dull routine that I could not abide. I would much rather watch the storm tonight, do anything but attend another damnable meeting. It seemed clear to me lately that all the dragons had been slayed, so to speak. Now I was making rules for our very kind, not breaking them! I was doing what I always strived to avoid. I was no longer the active or adventurous Lestat who chopped off hands, fought Body Thief’s, went on adventures, or saved our kind from annihilation. No, I was heavily involved in forming laws and doing paper work. It seemed there were no more adventures to be had. The thought made me desperately lonely. ‘And Alexander wept,’ I muttered to myself, ‘for there were no more worlds to conquer.’

            This was typical though. Each morning as of late, in these private moments of waking, I would dream of fleeing the castle altogether. I would leave no note but take to the air, or perhaps take one of the expensive foreign motor vehicles some of the other vampires stored or collected in the garage deep within the castles basement, or even more longingly take my own Harley Davidson and ride away. They would know of course, the Others and they would inevitably track me down, but such a thrill would it be to be the old Lestat again! To do as I pleased – consequences be damned. With a heavy heart, I took a last look at the tremendous storm brewing outside in the darkness before slipping out of my bedroom. I went down the spiral staircase to the main expansive living room which housed floor to ceiling bookshelves of my lesser favourite texts collected over the centuries or even given to me as gifts. I lit the lamps and fires with a single thought. I could still hear the mighty shrill screams of the winds in this tower, not to mention the heavy rainfall and thunder along with seeing a bright flash of lightening. The sound and flashes thrilled me – made me feel alive when lately I merely felt lazy, dull and bored.

And I had grown so lazy, I realised as I paced my living room waiting for a steward to supply me with my nightly feed. Even feeding was now by appointment and I felt ashamed at what I was doing, merely waiting like a common dog for its owner to feed it. To go outside, even briefly, I needed a guard, the Prince’s Guard, or else needed my victims to be supplied in advance so the Hunt would not take much time out of my busy schedule. So, to save me from wandering from my duties my victims were now brought straight to my door, like a mortal take-away of fast-food. Some blood donors resided here in the castle, happy to let me feed upon them per the _Little Drink_. There were perhaps six or seven mortal beings that were in permeant residence here and had been for many years. Most, I knew, would never leave. Why would they? They owned the castle by day, were fed and entertained and even loved by those who lived here. Usually these ‘donors’ were outcasts in the mortal world; quirky artists who did paint work around the castle, or writers and musicians with nowhere else to work or be inspired without judgement. And that’s what we provided them with - inspiration, work, money and lodging. At times, when I had a greater thirst, I would have the ‘evil-doers’ brought to me and, suck every drop of blood from their bodies, their hearts, their brains even. A gruesome thing, but desperately needed. All the more gruesome, considering that I did not even need the blood anymore, truth be told. Nevertheless, at the start of most nights I received it and I looked forward to it as it was the only time of night I truly felt alive. The rich allure of the salty hot blood was as closest thing to excitement I got these days.

All too soon, there was a knock on the door, a gentle sound that was more out of politeness than necessity. With a sigh, I knew my day was to begin, my blood take-away was being dropped off and I would have ten minutes to enjoy this feast, prolong it by talking to my victims if I wished, before I was required to dress for the day and attend my first meeting.  I was admittedly a little over eager as I opened the door soundlessly with my mind, and turned to greet the steward who delivered my victim with my usual forced smile. However, it was not my steward who stood there with a willing blood donor by his side. No, it was the raggedly clad, but smiling Louis who stood at the door, his chin length black hair slightly wet, mussed and tossed clearly having briefly been outside, in that noisy storm I could hear even now. He must have gone outside to welcome the fledging in person, I thought, who I now realised stood the fledging who stood at his side. Cloaked in black, small in comparison to Louis, perhaps five foot and some four inches they stood. It was hard to tell much about them other than there were drenched from head to toe, and pulling their cloak tighter around them as though cold. They carried a leather satchel and a black backpack with them. They made no attempt to greet me at all, but merely looked back to Louis as though confused. I only saw the briefest flicker of their pale skin as they turned as their hood was so large and soaked to their skin. I felt half-insulted by this. I was the Prince after all, and most fledging’s, even the shyest of them, at least bowed their head when they greeted me. This one had an evident proud demeanour about them, not necessarily arrogance, but rather a sense of boldness. I still could not see their face properly as their dark hood covered most of it. It quickly glanced at me, head still held high with an air of defiance, but a slight blush came over their cheeks.

I paused in wonder for a moment, taken back by their behaviour but mostly by the brief glimpse of their face I manged to see as they glanced at me. They possessed an androgynous appearance; lily white skin, green piercing eyes, a slightly freckled face, slight dimple on their chin, but with high cheek bones and cherub-like rosy cheeks. And their age, in that brief glance, truly baffled me. This being could have been anywhere from eighteen to forty. They possessed the stamp of eternal youth that few humans ever did and it was more amplified by their vampiric blood. There was a slight smile on its face and they blushed even more, a full rosy hue. So unique! I had never seen a vampire blush so hard. I wondered why they were embarrassed but found it so intriguing all the same. I longed to pull down their hood and see their face properly. But no, I mentally reprimanded myself, unable to stop staring at that incredibly near mortal, full bright beautiful rosy blushed cheeks of this vampire, you are a Prince. You must act the Prince, Lestat!

This somewhat awkward silence was cut off by Louis clearing his throat. I glanced at him bewildered, perhaps thinking this fledging was unable to speak at all and would need Louis to speak for them. Louis’ eyes glanced pointedly down my body and it was only then I realised that I was naked, completely stark-naked in fact, having forgotten I had invited this fledging for a private Audience with me. I tried to compose myself as diplomatically as I usually did when greeting my Audiences, trying to ignore the fact that I was so obviously unprepared and, well buck-naked, as they say. I managed to make a half courteous bow of my head before a low huff of laughter escaped my lips. Biting my lip, I tried even harder to compose myself and looked anywhere but to Louis or the fledging. ‘Ah,’ I said, forcing myself to be dignified, though my shoulders were trembling slightly with the effort of holding my laughter in. ‘I - I believe you are slightly early, are you not?’

‘Lestat!’ Louis bemoaned, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘You did remember your meeting, didn’t you?’

It took me a full several seconds of silence before I could even look Louis in the eye. How did he not find this funny? Clearly I forgot the damned thing or I would not be here now naked and waiting to privately enjoy my delivered meal of the day as was my usual routine.

I couldn’t help it – I laughed though restraining myself from my hysterical laughter with great effort and will. ‘Pardon,’ I started to explain, covering myself with both hands. ‘I evidently confused my schedule.’

The fledging nodded and seemed to be fighting the urge to laugh too – the rosy blush though lessened now still there, a softer shade of pink. Instinctively, I knew I liked this fledging. The blush alone was so beautiful, so utterly unique and humorous. Though I could barely glimpse at either of them without the urge to laugh hysterically.

‘My Royal ah – how to say, my Chief Chamberlain? He did of course inform me that you would be arriving early – it slipped my mind,’ I gestured at Louis with my hands who made an annoyed grunt. He did not really approve of the title. I then immediately realised I was baring myself again and so covered myself up once more with my hands - not out of embarrassment, believe me. Gods no, I was beautiful, I knew that, but out of courtesy. I was after all a Prince. Albeit, a naked one making a rather unique if not mortifying first impression. I would curse myself if this wasn’t so funny – Louis glowered, looking perhaps the most awkward and embarrassed, green-violet eyes averting my naked self as though if he were to look at me he would be staring into the sun itself. ‘I do apologise for this rather exposing introduction,’ I continued, feeling playful all of a sudden and a bit more like my old flirtatious and bold self. ‘Would you allow me to change? It would only take a moment.’

The fledging remained composed and upright and dignified, giving a curt nod of their head, although they were clearly trying not to grin, biting my lip as I did mine earlier and avoiding my eye. They were a little childlike in the way that they blushed as they looked away. Admittedly, during all the letters request to come here in their letter, I had expected them to arrive tear-stained eyes, in rags and begging for my attention. So far this one had not said a word. ‘Please feel free to warm by fire,’ I advised, gesturing to the fire openly now, uncovering myself once again. I was purposefully teasing now, trying to entice a response of any kind from them as I had done with Sevraine last night. ‘Poor child you are drenched to your skin’ I continued, my voice full of concern. Bizarrely I wanted to make them blush that full red bloom of a blush by making them laugh or get angry.

The fledging nodded once more and slipped past me with their head still held high, cheeks blazing. They adjusted their hood slightly, pulling it tighter around their face as though the rain itself still lashed against them. An odd human motion, I noted. Perhaps they were ashamed of their blush and clearly they were shy too. Though this was perhaps not surprising considering this one was so young in the blood. And so too were they in the company of Royalty. Many visiting fledging’s, or even Older ones had acted so strangely from time to time in my presence, behaving overly giddy or excessively shy. It was the reaction to Royalty I supposed, and I was not completely unused to it. My brief career as a rock star also elicited similar responses from my then admirers. Though whether this young one was shy, giddy or perhaps even in awe by me was yet to be made clear.

 Louis interrupted my unending thoughts of this fledging with an annoyed huff as I realised I still watched the fledging as they stood with their back to me by the fire. His sigh broke my reverie and I eyed him calmly, shrugging slightly as though this were a mistake that could happen to anyone.

‘Do you really think this is the acceptable manner to receive guests as our chosen Prince?’ Louis bemoaned in voice so low only those with a century or two in the blood could have heard us speak. His eyes were not on me but slipped to the fledging.

I smiled. ‘Are you scared to look upon me, Louis?’ I asked gently in a similarly low voice so the young one could not hear, but I was smiling delightedly now trying to elicit a response from Louis – any kind of emotional or physical response. ‘When did we last have fun, my beloved? When did you last taste my blood, or I yours? When did you last see me naked as you do now? Look at me Louis. You always did love my body, did you not?’

Louis eyes fell to mine suddenly, but there was no lust there, no warmth, but a coldness. My smile quickly fell. ‘Do you think this a game, Lestat?’ he questioned, an incredulous tone evident in his voice. ‘You think this poor young one has waited so long to be treated so insultingly by the represented leader of our tribe?’

‘Pff, always so dramatic! I simply lost track of my schedule! It has never happened before, has it?’ I defended, though I felt a surge of guilt. I stepped closer to him gently, trying to push my flesh against his body. ‘This young one is amused by this. They will soon have my attention, I promise you. But Louis, come now upstairs with me. Taste from me – you look thirsty. Bathe with me. It won’t take long. A few more minutes won’t make a difference, We never have fun anymore - ’ 

Louis suddenly pushed me back by my shoulders, a soundless but angry gesture. ‘Lestat, why must you lapse back into these old games. I told you last night, you will get time off soon! Then you can do as you please! Typical of you to get exactly what you want and then grow bored!’ he hissed angrily. ‘Forever the Brat Prince! But a Prince nonetheless with an entire tribe who rely on your guidance and support. Act like the Prince they need you to be.’

I wanted to argue to protest in some way but I was lost for words. Louis was not one to speak so much or so crossly. I wanted to leave the room suddenly, ashamed by my lazy attitude, my nakedness, my desperate need for attention from Louis or the young fledging. I stepped back, covering my penis with my hands and nodding now, finally feeling embarrassed by this situation. Yet something broke in me as I stepped back, something I did not quite know how to say out loud, or was too guilt-ridden to. I only knew, quite suddenly, that for the first time, I doubted, truly doubted if I could be the Prince that my people needed, that Louis needed. I did not know if that’s what I wanted to be. It made me angry and sad the realise this. ‘I hope I haven’t made a poor first impression,’ I said aloud, though the fledging barely turned from the fire to look at me. ‘Forgive me. I - I was distracted. Louis, would you wait with our dearest guest?’ I asked with polite smile at Louis. Louis merely nodded and I quickly departed to change into a respectable outfit.

I chose black slim pants, tight fitting and rich leather riding boots with a men’s white silk blouse, loose at the sleeves but pulled at the wrists, a garment particularly popular in my time and making a slow resurgence in fashion today. I topped it with a velvet black frock coat and combed my blond hair back in respectable way, taming the golden curls somewhat before tying it loosely with a silk black ribbon. Now I looked as a Prince, I thought glumly as I considered my ensemble in the mirror. My giddiness was gone now and that empty feeling that seemed to consume me as of late now returned. Duty called – the brief fun was over.

I returned down the spiral stairs quietly a few minutes later to see the fledging still standing by the fire. Louis watched on, his face lit up by the fires light and his expression unreadable. By the time I reached him, all anger seemed to be abated for now and he looked slightly confused. His gaze briefly flickered back to the fledging before going to me. I nodded and began to speak aloud, signalling with a slight head tilt for Louis to follow me. ‘Perhaps reschedule my call with Seth and Fahreed,’ I said aloud so the fledging could hear. ‘My own fault of course. I think I owe our guest a little extra time to speak with me considering my rude first impression.’ I forced a smile as we reached the door, hoping Louis and I could at least be amicable for now, in front of our guest.

‘Of course, I’ll inform them at once,’ Louis stated before lowering his voice. ‘Lestat, I understand your frustration. I know you grow restless. I will tell the others to arrange some time off for you. I grew irritable because this one desperately needs our help. And you make such a poor introduction. Do not scare them or play games with them. I don’t know how to explain,’ he barely whispered, his eyes suddenly concerned.

I grinned. ‘Louis, the younger ones get excited, I know this,’ I said back in a low voice tinged with humour. ‘Remember that young group from New York? So excited they were and giddy, wanting selfie’s and hugs and kisses, but then they realise I am merely as they are – perhaps with more experience’ I said with a low response and a delighted smile. ‘The novelty wears off quickly from meeting me. Even the humans say, “you should never meet your idol, it will end in disappointment”.’

‘No, no, Lestat, that’s just it. This one shows no excitement, no enthusiasm, barely said a word. Imagine, to wait so long, to practically beg for this chance and then to say nothing; no gratitude for us to arrange this, no etiquette whatsoever. I shook their hand at the door to welcome them and they were trembling. I could not even sense the gender of this one – something hard to derive from their letters as well. Only fear, pure fear, did I see in their eyes. It radiates from them…’ Louis looked truly lost for words, his eyes fell to the fire again were the young one stood. ‘This young one is odd. Perhaps I should stay with you?’

 ‘Louis,’ I waved my hand impatiently, indicating he should leave, but kept my overall composure relaxed. ‘You think too much, you feel too much – about everything,’ I stared at him in the eyes hoping the double meaning would sink in. But before he could open his mouth to perhaps comment I continued, ‘These Audiences are usually brief. I still have a busy night of appointments ahead. This young one is probably nervous, hence their fear. They can do nothing, absolutely nothing to hurt me and very little to shock me.Tis one has waited so long for this appointments. I will grant it the private Audience it has relentlessly and patiently requested. Isn’t that what you scolded me to do a moment ago?’

Louis seemed to struggle with his thoughts briefly before he answered. ‘As you wish,’ he answered finally with a somewhat defeated tone. ‘I will give you your time, and return to remind you of your next appointment.’  

‘Thank you, Louis,’ I answered, and held the door open pointedly. ‘Now as you so keenly suggest, I most done the mask and be a proper Prince for yet another night.’ Louis looked slightly guilty but merely left and I closed the door behind him perhaps a bit louder than intended. I admittedly still had a flair for dramatics.

I went back into the room, watching the fledging who still stared into the fire soundlessly. More intrigued than fearful, I approached them from behind. ‘Sorry about that. I needed a little conversation with my Chamberlain, important business,’ I explained and sat on an armchair and sat closest by the fire. ‘I promise, these delays will not affect your time with me this evening as promised. I know you have waited some time for this and I appreciate your patience.’ Nothing, nothing whatsoever did they say. Slightly annoyed that they did not answer or turn to face me, the Prince of the Palace after all, I probed on. ‘My Chamberlain, Louis, had concerns about this meeting – he seems to think you are strange. There was even the suggestion that you should be feared.’

I noted their shoulders seemed to shudder slightly and soon I heard a quiet laugh. The young fledging turned to face me, pulling down their hood and finally, showed their face which wore a rather dark expression and had a sneering smile on their face. ‘Perhaps your friend is right. Perhaps you should fear me.’

 

 

 


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Chapter contains violence/assault

**Three**

**_Lestat_ **

****

 

‘Why should you fear me?’ the fledging queried, but barely looked at me and seemed to mumble the words more to themselves. I realised I had upset them by saying that Louis feared their presence here. Their face sharpened with a wild, even primal fear, as though I were now a potential feral beast and they were trying to appear brave before me and admittingly, they were doing it well. Though I could hear their rapidly beating, yet slightly irregular heartbeat they nevertheless stood with brazen courage before me. Scared, I ascertained, but willing to meet that fear. Briefly it reminded me of my encounter with the wild wolves not so far from here when I young and mortal. ‘Do I look like something you should fear?’ they continued quietly, without a tremble in their voice, though it still sounded despondent as though they themselves were unsure of the answer. The voice had a musical quality, a softness that carried like a low murmuring wind, rising and falling in perfect currents. I looked at this fledging with a begrudging respect at their sudden audaciousness, for I thought not seconds ago that they were shy, or nervous, or perhaps even taken by me.

But, I could not answer right away; for I was enamoured by their now exposed face. Porcelain skin, slightly freckled face, a faint dimple on their chin, high cheek bones, but full and almost cherub, rosy cheeks. However, with their hood now down, their features were fully enhanced by an abundance of thick, curly red hair that was very long – far longer than my own. This fledging was a woman; her sweet gentle voice had exposed her gender finally and so too did her now fully revealed features. She was a young woman; mid-twenties perhaps, if that. Her mixture of adult and child features made it so hard to correctly guess.

‘Do I?’ she repeated, a slight edge to her voice now, a little demanding as though frustrated by my silence. ‘Do I look as though I am threat to you, Prince de Lioncourt, or to your Chamberlain, Monsieur de Pointe du Lac, or anyone else in this castle?’ Her steady voice slightly trembled now, but she held her head high, fists still clenched. Strong-willed and she forcing herself to remain calm, even though I could hear her irregularly fast heart beat wildly in her chest. So unusual for a vampire to have such a rapid heartbeat. They were petrified. Once again, it made me think of that wild encounter with the mountains wolves I had when mortal. She reminded me so much of myself as that young man centuries ago that I was enchanted as though I faced a contemporary version of my then self.

‘No,’ I answered calmly, forcing my voice to be soothing as I sometimes did with mortal victims in times past right before I fed from them or drained them completely. I desperately wanted to ease her rapidly beating heart. ‘You do not scare me. And I do not think you pose a threat. My words about Louis, the Chamberlain, were a mere jest. It’s his job to worry,’ I explained, ‘Yet they startled you, didn’t they? Why?’

‘I-I’m not afraid,’ she answered in the same quiet musical voice. ‘At least not in the way you think. See, I have trouble keeping company. And with others, ones I met in the beginning – I did not leave a good impression, let’s say.’

‘We all have trouble finding our feet in the beginning’ I explained gently. ‘And what others do you mean?

‘Mortals,’ she whispered, and her eyes were filled with blood red tears at the word.

I could have laughed now, for this was ridiculous. ‘Young one,’ I answered, trying to be patient. She may flee from here if I trivialised her fear. I did not want that. I knew she had come here for a reason and I was suddenly dying to know what it was. For the first time, in a long time, I was interested in the company before me and in the task I, as Prince, currently had. This was at the least more interesting than budget meetings. ‘Most mortals fear us and we must severe our ties with them when we change, or risk driving them or us to madness. We are all monsters in their eyes,’ I explained. ‘We are unnatural to them. Why not keep the company of our kind?’

‘I tried to – once,’ she answered. ‘They were a young pair of lovers in Rome. They too saw me as a monster. I could see their thoughts – they wanted me dead. I fled before they could carry out that deed.’

‘But, why would they think that?’ I asked, genuinely perplexed by all of this. ‘We do not kill our own kind. It is forbidden. Any who do so would risk their own life.’

She seemed to pause, considering her next words carefully. ‘They saw me as I truly am,’ she explained, her face growing sorrowful, ‘as a monster.’

She was so wildly beautiful, that it was preposterous for me to believe what she was saying. It had taken me the greatest effort since she removed the dark hood to concentrate on her words and not her features. Lustrous red curls, slightly damp, long and wildly tangled fell past her breasts, which I originally had not even noticed due to her great black travelling. But it was not any red I had ever seen on a person before. No, her hair was as the sun-set, it was the fire that blazed behind her. It was a flame, abundant shades; of red, honey, orange, auburn, copper, brown, and blonde all culminated in the most shocking colouring of hair I had seen in my over two hundred years’ existence. No wonder she had kept her black hood up when entering the castle. Any vampire would easily be distracted by the tone of her hair, even in this castle where frequent newcomers were barely noticed.

Yet I continued to study her - taking my time, continuing to gaze down her face slowly. Her eyebrows were a shade lighter than her hair, raised a little quizzically as I studied her in silence. I realised I had merely glimpsed her eyes earlier for though her right eye was as green as a mint leaf, her left eye was as brown as a coffee bean. This somehow added to her beauty, especially to the boldness of her hair. And her eyes were painted, I realised. Very subtle eye shadow of dark nude, a use of mascara to darken her long lashes and eye liner that drew attention to her mixed eye colour – clearly she was not shy about this slight irregularity. Yet, there was a tinge of bluish-purple beneath her eyes, a sign of tiredness or hunger or both. A clear lip gloss shined her cupids bow lips, which were the colour of deep red rose. She chewed the plump lower lip a little nervously. She wore no foundation to lighten or darken her pale porcelain skin, and her cheeks were naturally rosy with the slightest dimple on her chin. Her black cloak was still soaking wet from the storm, which still raged on outside. The wet baggy garment reached a little past her knees. Her shapely calves were covered in tight denim, wearing those modern skinny jeans people her age typically wore and lavender, though rather worn looking, sneakers with white tips that were also popular with people her age. They were surprisingly clean considering she had come in from the storm outside. All of this suggested to me that she clearly made an effort to look respectable before me this evening. Yet her worn clothes suggested she had little, if any, money. Had I been stuck with the same faces for company for so long, or was this creature the fairest I had ever seen? She reminded me of a mythical beauty or – a creature fairy from a Romantic poem, with her wild appearance and demeanour, and musical voice.  

‘You look beautiful,’ I said simply and with a smile and with a slight wave of my hand indicated she should sit on the sofa in front of the fire. Like all my possessions this was a handmade antique, a French inlaid walnut sofa, with soft ivory material cushions. I seated myself on my preferred mansion hand-wooden carved, leather interior chair beside the sofa. ‘Honestly, I fail to see how vampire or mortal could call you a monster. And you remind me deeply of myself; the fire, the bravery, the beauty, which I find fascinating. As a Prince, the old days of adventure are long gone, which, forgive my greedy honesty, makes me want to hear your tale all the more. Be seated, let’s talk some more.’

Her rosy cheeks went that brilliant shade of red again. Mon dieu! Never had I seen a vampire blush so darkly – so humanely. She removed a black backpack from her shoulders and then sat on the couch in front of the fire. She then placed a brown leather satchel that was carried over her shoulder by her side on the couch too. She held the backpack on her lap before her, holding it tightly with both hands – small, almost childlike, snow white hands. The backpack must contain her most important possessions, I assumed. Almost like a lost student she looked before me, awaiting a lecture to begin, her face still blushing. Her little fingernails were painted violet. These motions as she settled on the couch allowed me to see a flicker of her physical shape and I drank it in greedily. Her arms were curvy, not stick-thin, her breasts rather larger than I first thought, merely hidden by the cloak she wore. She was not as so many young women were today with a starved looking or an over-zealous toned body. She was curvy, I discerned as I studied her movements closely. She was a woman who resembled women in my time; shapely, big breasted and undoubtedly had beautiful curves all over her body. This sent a thrill of excitement throughout me. I longed for her to take off her travelling cloak to talk properly to me but she still was nervous of me. I could still hear her heart beat irregularly but a little slower. I had felt this fear as a vampire, I thought suddenly. Well, perhaps not her fear exactly but the similar deep-seated fear that malevolent Memnoch had caused me to feel as he stalked me. Yet who stalked her? Was it me she feared?

I hated that I made her this scared, for I wanted to know her properly. I truly had not encountered someone so unique in so long that it excited me and tested my patience. I wanted her story quickly. Yet she was hesitant to share anything. I realised she saw only Royalty before her. I was only Prince Lestat in her eyes, and she was too young to remember me as anything else. Perhaps she knew I was a strange Prince and I cannot blame her for this as I did introduce myself slightly dazed and naked. And I knew she thought me beautiful; her rosy cheeks gave her away each time I complimented her. To be fair, I was beautiful. I was; six feet tall, eyes of blue, that seemed to absorb the colours grey and violet under modern lighting. This was due to a culmination of powerful blood in my veins and the fact that I still was young, even for our kind. I too possessed rather thick but golden hair. However, mine was much tamer in comparison, though curly, and as I explained earlier, currently tied back from my face with a silk black ribbon. It can sometimes look white under certain lighting. My nose was a little too small for my face and my mouth a little too big, but pleasing, sensual and always animated, even in my human days. My skin was smoother and whiter than this fledging’s, but again I had more powerful blood than her and more years in the Blood. I did fit the part of Prince perfectly. I was descended from nobility, acted and dressed like it. But what where her roots?

It was only then realised I could not read her thoughts. I had not noticed right away as I rarely used this gift, turning it on and off as easily as a light switch. This Dark Gift was tricky and rarely revealed the truth. Was she turning off her mind from me on purpose? No, impossible. I was the most powerful of our kind and she was a mere fledging. That means she was doing it unknowingly, which happens sometimes amongst humans and vampires. Some beings were naturally born with sealed minds. It irritated me slightly for I truly wanted to know what frightened her, who made her, what made her so terrified? ‘Why are you here?’ I asked, rather abruptly and immediately mentally cursed myself. ‘I – I mean, excuse my rudeness, what can I do for you? Why did you so persistently request an Audience with me? Louis said that in your letters you wished to report a crime.’    

She sank a little further back in the sofa as though she longed to sink into it and perhaps disappear. It took her a moment to seemingly collect her thoughts before she spoke. ‘I am here because I truly have nowhere else to go,’ she confessed and looked at me closely, almost pleadingly. ‘I need your help, Monsieur de Li – I mean, Prince de Lioncourt. I believe you are the only one who may be able to. And yes, your friend or Chamberlain was correct, I-I think a crime was committed by our kind.’

Her honesty and helpless words broke my heart. ‘I will try,’ I vowed solemnly. ‘Like I said, I see much of myself in you, mon chéri. And if there was a crime committed, we will try to find those responsible. How long have you been in the Blood?’

‘Three years, maybe even four,’ she answered, hands fidgeting with the black backpack on her lap. ‘I was so confused at first. I knew no-one and did not measure time passing.’

‘You are still so young. And it can take time to gather a sense of self or time after the change. Even longer to find support amongst our kind, develop friends, or even a coven if that’s what you feel you need,’ I explained, for once feeling useful as Prince. ‘And you are welcome here for as long as you need until you are ready to face the world again. Perhaps you may even find friends here.’

She nodded, heart hammering away so strongly I was surprised she did not faint. ‘Thank you,’ she answered quickly.

‘I promise, you will not leave here until I have helped you in some way,’ I continued to offer and I meant it. Suddenly, I felt elated for this is what I truly wanted to do as a Prince - help people directly. ‘I can see you are starved – it’s not good in the early days to do this to yourself. I know, at first finding victims is difficult but there is the _Little Drink_ if you do not want to take life, which we do not permit here unless it is an evil-doer.’

She nodded and smiled. ‘I know, or at least I know now,’ she whispered and then cleared her throat. A human gesture, I noted mentally, but let her continue talking. ‘I discovered this through Benji’s programme. I started to listen a little while back. He mentioned this castle frequently. His show, his guests, they all helped me understand what I am now. Up to that point, the only other vampires I knew where that Italian young couple who had thoughts of my death.’

‘But this was in the beginning, so three, maybe even four years ago?’ I pressed gently.

She nodded, seemingly hesitant to move or speak any further than was strictly necessary.

‘Then likely those fledging’s are long gone,’ I answered, my own tone growing quiet. ‘They may not even have been aware of what they were doing.’

She looked at me confused. ‘I saw their thoughts, clear as day,’ she said with a slightly more animated voice. ‘I saw they meant to hurt me. They had a plan; cut me up and leave the pieces in the sun! Do you defend them?’

‘No, mon chéri,’ I answered calmly, but with a heavy sigh. ‘But during that time, our kind were under threat. There were Mass Burnings happening all over the globe,’ I paused, wondering exactly how much I should explain to her right now for heartbeat made it clear she was already so afraid. ‘There was this creature, Amel – a spirit of sorts who could enter the minds of vampires. He could befriend them and control them, misdirect thoughts, make enemies out of our Brothers and Sisters. Most horrid of all, he could make some of the Elder ones amongst us carry out these terrible Burnings. The most susceptible victims to these attacks were the recently made ones, or the fledging’s as we call them – those new to the Blood. It was the second burning in recent decades and our population significantly decreased because of it. Few ones of your particular age were thought to have survived it at all.’

‘That’s awful,’ she said softly after a few moments and she sounded truly shaken by this. ‘Such unimaginable violence.’

I nodded and pondered briefly whether to tell her if Amel was a misguided and trapped being with no other outlet for his millennia of entrapped rage. But before I could consider answering her she asked, ‘Do the burnings ever happen still?’

‘No, and I do not think mass burnings like that will ever happen again,’ I answered confidently. ‘I’m surprised you never heard Benji mention those attacks on his programme.’

‘I think I once heard him announce a minute’s silence on one of his shows when I first started listening some months back,’ she answered, eyes misted over as she tried to remember. ‘He said it was an Anniversary Remembrance for Those Lost in the Fires. I thought it was referring to some tragic accident. But he only said after that our tribe moves forward and learned from it.’

‘You were lucky, to survive I mean. So many your age did not. Where were you all this time?’ I asked, enjoying that she was slowly starting to open up to me.

‘I was deep within the earth in Italy,’ she answered without the slightest hesitation. ‘And I would still be there now, drowning in self-pity if I had not heard Benji’s show.’  

 ‘Why? You are so young! Why did you go down into the earth so soon?’ I asked, astounded by this. Again, she reminded me of myself. Within my first decade in the Blood, I too had gone underground. Yet she didn’t know that. She wasn’t alive then, nor her, parents, grandparents, great-grandparents. I found myself repeating Marius’ very words he said to me then; ‘Most of us experience the First Death much later; after a century, maybe even two.’

 ‘I tried to survive in my new form, but I couldn’t stand it - being this creature,’ she paused, thinking carefully again of how to phrase her thoughts. ‘I lasted only months. I didn’t even know why I dug so deep into the earth. I only knew the soil comforted me, soothed me. I felt safe there. No mortals or vampires to abuse me or fear me.’

I was intrigued by her choice of words and felt a thrill of excitement pass through me for her story was so like my story. But I tried to remain calm, knowing she was nervous of me. ‘If you felt safe in the earth then what made you leave it?’

‘I slowly awoke. And though I was confused and fearful for a long time in the dark soil, I eventually began to hear Benji’s show. I first I thought I was going mad!’ she confessed, cheeks rosy once more. ‘But he helped me remember what I was and gave me hope too. After some time, it started to sink in that I was not alone as I had always thought. I started to claw my way out of the earth again. It took some time, I was exhausted, starved and often thought of giving up. But Benji’s voice made me feel as though I would be welcomed amongst my kind somewhere if I left the earth again. I fed off any creatures in the soil I could find. It took what felt like an age, but I finally made it out of the earth and gradually drank more substantial blood. And for the first time in my new existence, I had a plan. Benji’s show made me feel confident that if I were to reach you and talk to you in private about this crime I must tell you about. You are Prince and could perhaps advise me best.’

‘There are operators with whom you could speak in private,’ I suggested calmly, ‘They are always there. Benji mentions this every week on his show. And you could have reached him when you were in the soil – someone would have been sent to help you much sooner or to take a report of the crime.’

She nodded solemnly. ‘I couldn’t do it. I – I knew no-one in the blood. I have no connections and barely any sense of my powers. The only voices I ever heard with clarity where sometimes yours and Benji’s – you were spoken of so highly that I began to believe I could only bring my issue to you.’

‘I am flattered, truly,’ I answered, with a little modest nod of my head. ‘But – I don’t understand. What is your issue? And where is your maker during this time?’

 ‘I didn’t know my maker,’ she said in a hushed whisper as though it were a sacred confession. ‘They came into my room at night as I slept to change me. I awoke blindfolded, terrified as they worked the change and after they took me to a deep underground catacomb. There I was left.’

I was over-excited by her tale now. Another thrill of exhilaration passed over me for this, ah this, was so much more entertaining than my usual meeting! Does history really repeat itself if enough time passes? Was this young woman a contemporary version of myself? I found all this fascinating, her circumstances in her fledging years were so like my own. I wanted to help her, guide her like Marius had done for me. Her existence for so one so young had been such a lonely one. But how could I possibly advise her? I did not even know what she wanted. ‘You were changed and then immediately abandoned?’ I asked, standing to my feet at once. If felt good to be assertive now, to help her.

She nodded, looking into the flames of the fire barely noticing my sudden rage. The storm continued to rage outside and that was all that could be heard for a moment

‘Well that is no longer acceptable,’ I answered, gripping the marble mantle barely noticing the flames. I felt my emotions running high and I longed to take action! Be my old self again but this time as my role as Prince. ‘We will find who is responsible for cruelly abandoning you and they will answer for their crimes. I will summon David Talbot, and his team to track this vampire down. Benji and Armand will probably be of assistance too. You must present yourself and testify in front of them of course, tonight if - ’

‘NO!’ she shrieked suddenly. I jumped and turned thinking she was in sudden pain. She looked it, standing suddenly, eyes wild and terrified again. ‘Please don’t go to anyone – not yet! Please don’t make me stand before them all! You don’t understand it all yet!’

Her bizarre behaviour side-tracked me completely. And her heart still beat annoyingly fast and irregular. ‘Why are you so frightened?’ I demanded, stepping closer to her now and easily towering over her. ‘I can hear your damn heart near exploding in your chest since you arrived!’ I snapped, a little testily down at her and she shrank back taking a step away from me. ‘What are you afraid of? I’m trying to help you, can’t you see that?’

‘Lestat?’ I looked up surprised to see Louis by the door. I had not even heard him knock. He looked at my furious face in confusion. ‘You are running late for your meeting with Sevraine – a half hour late to be precise.’

The fledging shook her head, and stepped back away from me, trembling all over. She collected her bags and made as though to leave the room. ‘I appreciate you taking the time to see me, but I should never have come here - ’

I grabbed her by her arm and pulled her back to me rather harder than necessary by her arms. ‘NO!’ I shouted roughly and pushed her forcefully back on the couch. Her leather satchel fell and some positions fell out of it. I held her in place by her shoulders, pressing my body closer to hers and trapping her between me and the couch. ‘You do not just walk away from your Prince. You must stay until I say otherwise. You haven’t told me everything yet!’

‘Lestat!’ Louis cried out appalled and came over to us at once. He stood behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder. ‘Are you insane? Let her go!’

Distracted I lost my grip on her just a little to look at Louis and she attempted to wriggle free. Noticing this I pressed harder on her arms. ‘Listen to your Chamberlain. After all, you are but a puppet of this tribe. You think yourself a noble Prince but you are spoiled,’ she spat at me, eyes blazing, but she did not move now as I held her. ‘You don’t care about me. I see it in your eyes. You only want me here to hear my ‘story’ to remind you of your glory days long gone. You only want to be entertained and sit here growing bored, fat and lazy in your Ivory Tower - ’ 

I slapped her suddenly, hard on her cheek so that her head even moved rapidly to the side and the noise was like a clap of thunder. She touched a raw nerve and I succumbed to my anger. Panting heavily, I looked at her in disgust.

‘You’re acting like the hot-headed lunatic not like our Prince!’ Louis said angrily, almost worriedly, tugging on my shoulder.

‘She deserves it,’ I spat out, shaking with rage.

She turned her head slowly, cheek inflamed where I struck it. The corner of her lip bled slightly but it was healing even as I looked at it. Yet she could not move for I held her tight with both hands again. She suddenly spat in my face. ‘Bastard!’ she roared, unwilling to back-down even now as I restrained and could easily crush her. ‘All of you are barbaric fuckers!’

 ‘How dare you, you ungrateful little bitch!’ I snarled, unwilling to let this woman go, feeling her spit roll down my cheek. ‘I welcome you here, I grant you an Audience, listen to you accuse one of our kind of a serious wrong-doing. You throw my kindness back in my face by trying to leave so rudely! I should lock you in the dungeons!’

‘Do you really think you are acting kind?’ she snapped back, meeting my angry glare with her own. ‘Do you think being forcefully held down against my will like you do now is kind?’ Tears entered her eyes, big red tears that spilled down her beautiful rosy cheeks. ‘Do you think threatening me with dungeons is kind? What’s next rape, torture, or some other abuse. And why? Because I wanted to leave, I got scared to confide in you. Is it kind to force me to do what you want when you did not even let me tell my full story! That’s what you all do; mortal or immortal, it matters not – you destroy and cause chaos and pain! I did not want this! I did not ask for it… I still do not want it … I can’t do it anymore…’

 I immediately I stepped back and felt a wave of shame for my treatment of her. I wiped my face. She was in pain, she was lost and now gave in finally, to complete sorrowful cries as she buried her face in her hands. She was right about everything. Of course, I was stuck in Ivory Tower being spoiled. I lived pampered and sheltered here. I demanded her to stay because she was interesting to me – hell I did not even know her name. Hadn’t bothered to ask. I simply treated her like a new toy, a novelty that reminded me of my own early days in the Blood. I did not want her to leave because I wasn’t done with her company yet so I used force. And her words _“That’s what you all do; mortal or immortal, it matters not.”_ I felt disgusted with myself. I had not heard the word ‘No’ in so long I simply did not consider its meaning. In effect, I was a bigger brat than ever. ‘I am sorry for treating you like that,’ I whispered, finding my voice gravely shaken. ‘You were right – I am stuck in this god damn tower and acted like a spoiled Prince. I am used of getting what I want, but you excited me – distracting me from my mundane routine duties and reminding me so much of myself in my early days of the Blood, even the temper. I am sorry. I am so so sorry’ I put my hands on her knees delicately but she recoiled immediately as though I burned her.

‘Please, do not touch me,’ she whispered, but removed her hands from her face yet avoided my eyes as though deeply ashamed by her tears. ‘I – I don’t like to be touched. I panicked just now. I have not told anyone my story. I have had no company in years. I was trying to annoy you, but only because you held me down and struck me. I’m sorry for spitting in your face.’

‘I deserved it,’ I answered in a stronger voice now, unable to tear m gaze away from her sorrowful features and puffy eyes that still shed the odd tear or two. ‘Never let anyone treat you like that, not even a Prince.’

She nodded, only slightly and wiped her eyes shakily with her hands. Mascara and red tears fell down her cheeks and it truly was a sorrowful yet beautiful sight.  

‘I will never ever hurt you again like that,’ I vowed slowly. ‘I – I lost my temper. It’s been happening a lot lately. The slightest thing doesn’t go my way and I snap or provoke others to snap. I understand if you want to go now. I will not stop you. In fact, I’ll support you with provisions; clothes, money whatever. I can provide you with the contact details of s friend of mine, David Talbot. He can advise you, he is trustworthy and will help you.’

She looked at me curiously her mixed eyes a little clearer. ‘Do you want me to go?’ she asked, before biting her beautiful rosy lower lip.  

‘No, I would like for you to stay another while, just to talk,’ I answered. ‘We crossed wires, and are too alike in temper. You do not like to be touched, and I am not used of dealing with someone as fiery as myself. We can try again, if you like?

‘I agree, but if you ever raise a hand to me again, I will leave and never return,’ she answered.

I nodded at once, feeling ashamed once more. ‘Completely understood and more than I deserve.’

‘I have nowhere else to go,’ she said to me, eyes flickering to Louis who was silently gathering up the few items that had fell from her bag. ‘And I don’t think I have the energy for another journey tonight.’

 ‘I will not grow frustrated with you again,’ I vowed, ‘But I know you hide something. This crime – whatever it is – you must tell me if you want my help. It’s why you are here, isn’t it?’

She looked up at me slowly and nodded. ‘I-I am so scared,’ she answered, her voice barely audible.

‘Leave Louis,’ I demanded, eyeing him warningly. He looked bemused, but did not argue, handing the items that had fallen from the woman’s bag back to her. She thanked him with a small smile. He smiled warmly back. I walked to the door and he followed begrudgingly.

‘Lestat,’ Louis said in his low voice, piercing green eyes wide with shock. ‘What the Hell was that about? Can you even hear her rapid heart? It’s irregular and - ’

‘I frightened myself, Louis. But everything she said was true. I’ve not been myself lately, I needed to hear it what a brat I’ve become,’ I confessed. ‘I am so bored lately, so easy to distract or annoy. And the beating of her damn heart frustrated me. Why do her words frustrate me so much. She manged to overpower me even though I’m stronger with her, just by her mere words!’

Louis smiled a little. ‘Lestat, you just described yourself,’ Louis said calmly. ‘But you hit her. She might be frustrating, but she is still by all means a child in the Blood.’

‘I know, I know,’ I answered, ‘In my day, that’s what we did with children. She does remind me of myself and it infuriates me that she challenged me. Like a brat I tried to control her. It was stupid and I will never act like that towards her again.’

‘Lestat, you are a Prince.  You must behave like it. I’m not sure you should be alone with her. And she has been through something awful. You hear her heart beat scarily fast for our kind. And didn’t you hear her words _“That’s what you all do; mortal or immortal, it matters not.”_  She’s terrified!’

‘I know Louis. And I agree with everything you said, but I think I can help her. Like you said, we are alike. Cancel my meetings for tonight – all of them,’ I said quickly and lowly. ‘And then return, listen at the door again. If both our tempers rise, you can stop it.’

Louis looked slightly appeased by this. ‘I will stop it right away. But what will I tell the Others?’

‘Tell them something more important came up,’ I confessed, waving my hand and not really giving a damn one way or the other what they were told.

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter Four

**_Four_ **

**_Lestat_ **

****

****

I returned to my chair by the fire again, sitting on the very edge of the seat and was hesitant to look at the fledging, ashamed and partially stunned by own erratic behaviour. She was silent too – stunned, no doubt. Looking desperately lost and small now she was, clutching her backpack in front of her with one hand, the little items that had fallen out of her satchel in our fierce exchange in her other. The only noise was the low and merry warm crackle of the large open fire, which contrasted with the wind and rain bellowing untiringly outside the window, showing no signs of stopping any time soon.

I hesitantly cast my eyes to her, watching her cease crying. Feeling miserably guilty, I removed a silk handkerchief from my breast pocket, for show more than anything else and offered it to her.

‘Thank you, Prince Lestat,’ she answered, taking the little silk fabric and hurriedly wiping the bloody tears mixed with her mascara away. ‘I must look a perfect horror,’ she said, forcing a smile and attempting a pacifying glance at me. Her crying shamed her for some reason I realised suddenly, though I had no idea why. I cried all the damn time and for a lot less. I found crying cathartic. And her tears were justified. I was the one who should be ashamed.

‘No, you don’t,’ I answered in utter sincerity, forcing my voice to sound normal and not to shake. ‘You look beautiful. Like the goddess Venus in Botticelli’s famous painting.’

‘‘The Birth of Venus’', she said, her tone a little quieter. ‘Beautiful painting. I fail to see the similarity. I figured I look like a banshee, right now. Admittedly, one covered in blood and mascara.’ She opened her backpack and searched it before I heard the opening of a packet. She finally removed a little damp wipe, a face-wipe I realised, and with an annoyed sigh started to remove all traces of the make-up around her eyes and again rubbed at her cheeks until all the blood tears was gone.  These simple actions done by so many men and women all over the world, removing make-up, fascinated me. Yet it seemed such an abnormal act that I felt the bizarre desire to laugh.

‘You like art?’ I asked, trying to instill some normality into the conversation before I made another emotional outburst lapse.

‘I am no art connoisseur,’ she said smiling, throwing the used wipe in her bag, locking it carefully and pressing the backpack close to her again as though it were the dearest thing in the world to her. ‘But I guess I appreciate the beauty in all things - especially in the natural, the human.’

‘Ah, so you’re a poet then?’ I teased, but loving and surprised by her response. It was honest, intelligent and full of emotion. Once more she seemed to be more human than vampire. Especially, now with the little make-up she wore removed from her face so that she looked exposed. So vulnerable and young she looked, her wild hair all around her. Again, I thought of the goddess Venus as I stared at her.

‘I’m more of a dreamer,’ she answered with a wider smile. ‘Perhaps they’re not so different though,’ she added thoughtfully and looked at me finally confidant she had composed herself enough again to continue. Her answer moved me, and I felt a sudden rush of affection for her. She undeniably reminded me of myself and, of Louis, with her dreamer and poet outlook. Yet this confused me. Yes, she had my temperament and reaction, which I could not control, in myself, or when I saw it in others. However, she also had Louis’s gentle Romantic mind and spirit. No wonder I was clumsy at how to respond to her and at how quickly she could anger or entice me. Her stare was forcefully defiant again, yet there was flicker of nervousness there. Her body was tense, perfectly ridged. Her irregular and quick heartbeat frightened me as it suggested her fear was still present no matter how much she forced herself to look calm.

‘I really am sorry things escalated like they did,’ I said quickly, interlocking my hands and looking to her almost shyly now.

‘It was my fault too,’ she said, surprisingly calm considering how we fought. ‘It’s not the first fight I’ve entered that got out of hand, nor the worst,’ she added. ‘I doubt it will be the last. I have trouble reigning in my temper – a pre-existing human condition,’ she smiled and looked at me kindly. Her face fascinated me for when she looked kind, as she did now, she looked like an angel carved from marble. But when I saw her angry, as in moments before, she looked like a fierce enchantress capable of anything. Such constant confliction she inflicted upon my thoughts!

‘I shouldn’t have raised my hand to you,’ I said, feeling grossly ashamed. ‘I too have always had a fiery temper but I am centuries in the Blood, you are a fledging. I should know better. I can only confess, and this doesn’t excuse my behaviour, that being locked up, even in this Ivory Tower as you called it, it does strange things to you.’

‘I understand,’ she answered. ‘Perhaps more than you think.’ She looked so desperately young, that I felt overcome with shame for striking her. And pale she looked and so very hungry. Faint blue veins were discernible on her cheeks – the flush of rose gone from them. The only colour was her vivid flaming hair. She picked up the items - photograph’s - I noted quickly, that she had set aside on the sofa when composing herself, whilst her other hand still clutched the backpack close to her.

‘You should feed,’ I said, studying her in concern. ‘You look starved. If you like, I can arrange another meeting for tomorrow night for us.’

‘I can’t,’ she answered, quietly. ‘Forgive me, but I came this far. And I will tell you everything tonight because I cannot bear the thought of drawing this out for even one more night. That is, if you’re not busy with other duties? I do not want to keep you.’

‘I’ve cleared my schedule. You wanted my help and I promised it to you. I want to hear the crime that you believe was committed. I really want to hear your story,’ I answered and reached forward, slow enough so that she would not misread what I was doing. ‘May I?’ I asked, nodding at the few photograph’s in her hand.

For a moment, she said nothing. Her eyes fell to the images in her hands and her expression became totally unreadable, her face stone. She looked as a vampire should now, but I was beginning to learn this was merely temporary with her. She constantly switched from human to vampiric in demeanour and expression faster than any other vampire I had ever encountered. Even my superior eyesight could not discern the exact moment her features changed. Finally, she passed the photographs to me. ‘I guess it’s a fitting place to start,’ she said softly. ‘This is the true beginning of my story. Maybe if you hear the whole tale you will not judge me too harshly.’

I wanted to answer but the first photograph drew my eyes immediately. It was worn looking, maybe two decades old, but the image was easy to see. It was a little girl, no more than five years old. Hair of fire and already long, but ending in those adorable ringlets younger children often have. She had a delightful smile lighting up her face, her rosy chubby cheeks aglow with evident happiness, a slightly dimpled chain and face dotted with some freckles. A small, chubby fist waved at the camera, mixed eyes alight though full of mischief. She was wearing a dark navy uniform. Beside her stood a much older gentleman with thick hair as red as the little girls but speckled with silver and white streaks. The man had a kind, but weather-beaten face. And whereas she was porcelain in skin, he was tanned. This man beamed down at her in the photograph. ‘First day of school,’ she explained, her face lighting up suddenly, animated and full of warmth. The change was astounding. ‘That’s my grandfather,’ she added. ‘He had just promised me I could go on the horses when I got back from school. I didn’t want to go to school. Well, I didn’t mind, not really. But I preferred being on the farm with him.’

I laughed brightly, ‘You were a heartbreaker even then,’ I said, looking at this photo in absolute delight. ‘You grew up on a farm then … ’ my voice trailed off. I didn’t even know her name. I still had not bothered to even ask her in all this time. Was she so distracting that I was losing all sense of self and manners, or was I living up to my reputation as the Brat Prince? ‘I’ve never asked you your name,’ I said in evident embarrassment. ‘Please forgive me.’

 She waved her hand as though it were not an important thing at all. ‘You’re a very busy person. I imagine you hear many names each week, ’ she replied with a simple smile. ‘And had I not been so nervous earlier, I would have introduced myself properly. Prince Lestat, my name is Radha.’ She extended her free hand and I brought it slowly to my lips and placed a soft kiss upon it. Her skin was soft as velvet, but cold. Her blood smelled divine – truly divine; like an overwhelming richness was added to it somehow. It was intoxicating and alluringly and it was with great hesitation I released her hand again.

‘It is an honour, Rower,’ I answered, my lips clumsily trying to form her name.

She laughed suddenly, deep creases appeared by her eyes and mouth as though she had laughed often, at least when human. The sound was truly musical, her face lit up. The effect on her features was dazzling and soon I laughed too – just enchanted by her. ‘Radha,’ she repeated, this time slower, her French accent was undeniably gone with this one word. ‘Spelled R-a-d-h-a,’ she explained. ‘But pronounced ‘row’ and ‘a’,’ she emphasised.

‘Not French then, I take it, Radha?’ I asked, pronouncing her name even more slowly this time, amused by this.

She shook her head, great cascades of her flaming hair catching the firelight in a beautiful yet distracting fashion. ‘No, I’m Irish, Prince Lestat,’ she replied softly, slipping into English easily. ‘Though I speak fluent French, a little Irish, but my first language is English.’

‘How could I not possibly have guessed all of this?’ I answered quickly falling into English now as I spoke, wanting to hear more of that delightfully wild, rhythmic tone of her speech. ‘I’m normally quick to decipher where a person is from. And, of course, you’re Irish!’ I looked at the photo and then back to the grown woman beside me. ‘Mon dieu,’ I exclaimed, exasperated. ‘I do behave idiotic at times. And please no more Prince – call me Lestat.’

‘I think I should call you by your proper title until you know me better,’ she said, her smile slightly decreasing. ‘Just out of respect. But do tell me, an Irish vampire, is that cliché in the vampiric world?’ she teased in English, but with that wild Irish accent I so loved and had not heard in a very long time. It made her voice sound all the more musical and rich. Her quiet tone completely faded and she seemed truly happy since the first time she arrived here.

 ‘It’s unusual, actually. Though your country penned perhaps the most renowned, though exaggerated vampire novel, there are relatively few Irish vampires I’ve ever known.’

 She seemed to absorb my words, nodding as I spoke. ‘More’s the pity,’ she said, but she smiled openly. ‘But Stoker’s tale is great, albeit not very accurate. Don’t you think?’

 I rolled my eyes, but in a good humoured way, deliberately trying to tease her. ‘Tales of a demented Irish man.’

‘Watch it!’ she warned, slapping at my knee playfully. Immediately she realised what she had done and blushed, rosy cheeks suddenly gone from pale to red. I wanted to kiss her cheeks, I realised quickly. Yes, I really did want to press my lips upon them and perhaps roll my tongue over it just to see if it felt as warm as it looked. And I wanted to run my hands through her wild hair, such fascinating hair! I wanted to kiss her cupid lips, perhaps bite her lower, plump lip and suckle from it. Taste that dazzling blood which distracted me so much, which seemed to overwhelm my senses. Her eyes glazed over me and I wondered if she heard my thoughts. No, I reminded myself. I learned to seal my mind off a long time ago.

 ‘So yes, I’m Irish,’ she said, averting her gaze back to the flames of the fire. ‘I grew up on a farm in Connaught, in the most rural of rural spots. Completely isolated in the middle of nowhere, but near the coast. I was the youngest of seven and arrived a little later in life than my siblings. I had a more free reign because of this. To be honest, I was a wild child.’

‘But you had a happy childhood?’ I asked curious and loving her sudden openness.

She paused contemplatively. ‘I loved where I grew up,’ she said after a moment, looking back at me once more. ‘I loved the countryside, and my grandfather in particular, spoiled me,’ she continued, eyes momentarily falling to the photograph. ‘But when I was eight, my grandfather passed and he was the only one who really kept an eye on me. My siblings were much older, some with families of their own to look after. My parents and other siblings were busy working the farm. I spent my childhood running free and untamed.’

‘Sounds lonely,’ I answered quietly, looking down at the happy child in the photograph again.

‘Not really,’ she replied quickly. ‘Turn to the next photograph,’ she encouraged.

I did so and this time, I saw a teenage girl, hair more as it was now, same colour, same length, same wild uncontrollable curls that rippled around her. She was simply dressed in a teenager’s typical millennial outfit of a hoodie and jeans. She was sitting on a large bed, reading a small book in her hand, her other hand rested on a huge, jet-black Newfoundland dog, which lay by her on the bed, head propped on her lap. ‘Milseáin is the dog there,’ she explained. ‘But I usually called him Millie.’

‘That creature is huge!’ I exclaimed, unable to stop staring at the dog in the photo which resembled a black bear more than a dog with its great shaggy coat. I even laughed at the absurdity of it. ‘It has to be what – a hundred and fifty pounds?’

Radha nodded. ‘If not more. But a gentle giant. Don’t get me wrong, he was something fierce when roused but he was protective, very loyal. Millie was my companion more than anyone else after my grandfather passed – crazy as it sounds.’

I shook my head, still unable to tear my eyes away from the photograph. I was still laughing to myself. ‘No, it’s not crazy. I grew up the same way. Here in this very castle.’

‘You did?’ she asked, evidently surprised.

I nodded, delighted that she seemed as interested in me as I was her. ‘Yes, though the castle itself has been recently renovated,’ I said, smiling now at the thoughts of my own dogs. ‘I had mastiffs at around the same age as you did here. They were my companions. I had older siblings, like you did too. But they were busy with their own lives and took more after my father. We didn’t really get along.’

‘You were more like your mother then?’ Radha asked, intrigued by all of this.

‘A little,’ I confessed. ‘I was more like her than my father at any rate. My grandparents I never knew. But my dogs. Ah! They were my faithful companions,’ I continued, feeling blissful at the memory of them lying beside me in bed or on the floor, rather like the Newfoundland, Millie, in Radha’s photograph. ‘I have two of these dogs in the kennels here on the grounds. My mortal stewards attend them during the day. I told the staff they would act as a good deterrent against any snooping mortals who try to enter the castle by the day. But really, they are my companions. I seek their company when the castle walls and people seem to overcrowd me, which is often. They are kept safe and warm in the kennels for not all our kind like them.’

Radha’s eyes widened, ‘May I see them before I leave?’ she asked excitedly.

‘Of course!’ I said, with another laugh. ‘I would be delighted to show you. I am prone to melancholic fits lately. I’m sure they would love to meet new people.’

‘Thank you, Prince Lestat,’ she answered, voice full of emotion

‘Just Lestat,’ I pleaded. ‘This ‘Prince’ title has given me an over inflated ego. But, I digress. If it’s not too bold to ask. Did you have any close human friends growing up?’

She sighed. Briefly I thought I offended her but she looked at me calmly when she spoke again. ‘Not really. I left the country before I found real friends.’

‘Why no friends?’

‘Like I said, I spent my childhood running free, listening to few. That got me into trouble as I got older. I was nearly always in trouble,’ she rolled her eyes now as though still mildly irritated by the thought.

I grinned. ‘You remind me so much of myself.’

She shrugged. ‘Being the youngest in such a big family, in the middle of nowhere, well, I felt as though I had no place. I had no role in the home. And as I grew older and perhaps more of a bratty teenager, I began to be labelled as wild and other such titles not so nice to say aloud.’

‘Why?’ I pressed gently. For I couldn’t imagine why she would be teased.

‘I looked wild – so they said with my mixed eyes,’ she said with another shrug. ‘And my crazy hair didn’t help. And I always looked wild and ragged, torn jeans and sweaters.’

‘That’s ridiculous!’ I exclaimed. ‘It makes you beautiful – unique. Petty jealousness it sounds like.’

She laughed at my defence. ‘It never bothered me, not that kind of stuff. I was too wild to give a damn about the opinions of sheep. In school, I got good grades, I managed to bite my tongue. My grandfather never learned to read or write. He was working by the age of eight on the family farm,’ she explained. ‘He said that was his biggest regret in life. Not learning to read or write. He said it stopped him from seeing the world. Well he had such a big influence in my formative years and he really pushed me at school. He made sure I always did my homework before playing. He bought me books, stationary, a laptop for my seventh birthday. Looking back, I think he knew I had no place in the home or on the farm. He would tell me to dream big, that I could be whatever I wanted in life; a doctor, a teacher, a nurse, hell, a poet if I wanted to! And never wanting to disappoint him, I ensured I took my studies seriously. I don’t think I ever missed a day of school, and it was miles from our house but I still made it, walking, driving if I could, or by horse,’ she laughed at the memory, ‘Which pissed off the nuns there, let me tell you.’

‘He sounds like a good man,’ I answered, my voice warm. I too had done this for my beloved Rose – ensuring she had every chance to have a good life. And Claudia too. Another surge of remorse for my two daughters were vampiric. They never experienced the full life they, by all rights, deserved to have. ‘He’s loss must have been hard for you.’

‘It was. And by ten, I was uncontrollable. By my teenage years I was reckless and impulsive. I ran away often. I never wanted to go to mass. My family were deeply religious so this hurt them on a personal level. And though I was still interested in school, I would fight the nuns that taught me. Sometimes, I would stand up at mass and question the priests who gave mass. I was never one for religion and that didn’t go down well in a mostly older and very rural, small Parish. Gradually, I was labelled a reckless heathen too.’

I couldn’t help it, I laughed. ‘You sounded wild, I admit. But heathen is a bit much. You were rowdy, perhaps but I was the same as a child. Most teenagers are.’

‘I think it was just a culmination things,’ Radha explained. ‘I looked wild, I acted wild, and I didn’t really give a damn who knew it. When the older ones would whisper ‘there’s the heathen’ and point to me in church, I would most often turn around to smile and wave at them.’

‘Let me guess,’ I said, but I was trying so hard not to laugh now, for this was too much. She was above what I was at that age and I adored her for it. ‘You couldn’t help it?’

 ‘Prince Lestat, I revelled in it,’ she confessed and we both lapsed into hysterical laughter.

For some time, that’s all we did. I could not look at her for several moments without breaking into even more laughter so that tears were collecting in my eyes. And she too was shaking from giggles. I loved seeing her laughing face, for she looked so much like the giddy child in the photograph. And it was truly so long since I gave in to my laughter, since I had anything to laugh about that it felt a positive explosion of warmth. I was a giddy soul by nature, and often immature too, but this had to stop to do my duties as a Prince.

Radha however seemed to unleash this side of me easily. She managed to collect herself first and still laughing continued. ‘It was just so easy to wind them up. I think it was my subtle payback for their name-calling, though it was petty. And, truthfully I never grew out of this, she confessed. ‘You seen it earlier. You were clearly stronger than me, you have more power here than me, but I still couldn’t keep my mouth shut.’

‘I think that’s why I desperately wanted you to stay,’ I admitted to her, but with an open smile. ‘Even scared, back up against the wall, you fight. You even confessed to been in the earth so young – you don’t know this, but you show all the sign of being a remarkable vampire.’

Her eyes widened, the green and brown iris’ alight by the fire glow made her look once again like neither vampire of human but something else entirely. ‘No, Prince Lestat. You will soon see. It’s my downfall,’ she said softly. ‘To be so hot-headed and impulsive.’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked, noticing her clutch her bag closer to her than ever. ‘Radha,’ I pressed. ‘Tell me, please. I’m not going to run from whatever you say. Surely you know this by now?’

‘Prince Lestat,’ she mumbled and ran her hands through her magnificent hair. ‘I’m nearly there now …’ her voice trailed off and she looked around her distractedly. ‘What time is it?’ she queried.

‘Some hours to sunrise – you have plenty of time to talk yet.’

She nodded but looked at me wearily. ‘I usually sleep for a little bit during the night. Otherwise I just get so tired I'm barely able to stand,’ she said with a hesitant look. I heard her irregular heart start to beat fast again. ‘Is that normal?’

I wanted to say no. Honestly it was rare for a vampire to need a nap during the night hours. In fact, it was only usually occurred after they performed a task of great exertion or if they were healing from injury. It was quite uncommon to fall into a deep sleep during the night hours. But I looked at her face and couldn’t say this so bluntly. ‘It can happen,’ I admitted. ‘And there are physicians I can reach if you feel that this tiredness is excessive or unnatural. But you have had a long trip,’ I justified. ‘And you have been waiting for this opportunity to talk for so long. It is probably stress tiring you. Even vampires feel stress.’

She seemed pacified by this, but rubbed her forehead with one hand. She did look tired and still so hungry that I immediately felt sorry for her. ‘Radha, this can wait until tomorrow,’ I said kindly. ‘You can stay here, of course. I can ensure you get fed before sunrise too.’

‘Almost there,’ she said and smiled weakly at me. I knew she wouldn’t stop. Not unless I expressly asked her to. She was too stubborn to break her pace now.

I nodded for her to continue with her story.

‘So by my teenage years, I was a living nightmare for my family,’ she said wearily, rubbing her forehead as though willing her tiredness away. ‘I challenged every aspect of religious influence in our lives; education, hospitals, beliefs on everything; abortions, sexuality, sexually transmitted diseases on and on. It was maddening to live with such backwords view from people. I thought it would drive me insane. When I was eighteen I left the country. I was finished school by then, and left for Europe with my Grandfather’s inheritance. That inheritance was my Golden Ticket.’  

‘What about your siblings?’ I queried. ‘Where they left anything from him?

‘No. I got all of my grandfather’s savings, his car and even his shares on the farm,’ she said, running a hand through her hair again. ‘As I said earlier I always thought he knew I had no role on the farm. I think this was his final way to ensure I got a fair chance in life. I found out that he created the will when I was only three years old, well before I even had a notion what this kind of money even meant. And he was such a proud man. To even go to solicitors to arrange a will as a man who couldn’t read or write mustn’t have been easy for him. Everything was recorded by video.’

‘It shows he wanted the best for you,’ I added thoughtfully. ‘What did you do with the money?’

‘Travelled a little first,’ Radha answered, ‘I went to Edinburgh first, then London and lived for a couple of months at a time in either place. I loved the new sense of freedom and making many friends, but after a while I grew bored. I thought more and more of my grandfather’s words about education. So after a year or so of odd jobs and plenty of parties, I enrolled myself in the University of Paris, or the Sorbonne as you may know it, Prince Lestat,’ she said smiling warmly suddenly at me.

 I nodded. I knew the place well. It had quite an esteemed reputation across France and the world. ‘What did you study?’ I asked, peaked by her life story.

‘I studied English Literature as an undergraduate,’ she answered simply. ‘And went on to obtain a Master’s degree in English and American Literature.’

‘Impressive, ‘I answered, for she looked so young to have such an impressive academic background.

‘Not really,’ she said, dismissing this as though it were a trifle thing. ‘Don’t get me wrong Prince Lestat, I know how fortunate I am to have studied there. But it was the financial support of my Grandfather that ensured it.’

‘Yet you must have been smart to obtain a Master’s Degree,’ I counter-argued. ‘That is no easy feat. No money can buy intelligence.’

‘True,’ she admitted. ‘But for me, it was a love of studying literature that pushed me forward in my studies. Those years in Paris were the best years of my life. I was happy, loved by my friends and enjoyed feeling productive and useful. And I loved reading, Prince Lestat. I loved research and writing. There are not many who get to study what they love. Therefore, while I’m blessed to have gone to University, one shouldn’t put too much emphasis on it. Not in this age where Universities are run like businesses. Love is what should motivate you in life – if you are fortunate enough to find something or someone you love.’

She spoke so candidly with no boasting or noble air that I wanted to argue on her behalf because a part of me felt she was selling herself short of her achievements, yet another part of me agreed with her. Before I could answer, she continued.

‘After I graduated, I went to Italy,’ she continued again. ‘And it here was that my human life ended.’ Her hand went to go through her hair again but I reached out and held it in my own gently against her knee. A glimpse of anger went through her eyes but she took a steady breath, nodded her head and squeezed my hand just the tiniest bit back. ‘I went there, sad to be leaving France for I had been so happy there. But I wanted to start a new adventure and see and work in more of the world.’

‘Where in Italy did you go to?’ I asked, noting she looked more tired than ever now. The blue-purplish tinge beneath her eyes seemed to have grown even larger since she first entered this room. And the blue veins on her cheeks expanded. Her tale seemed to physically starve and tire her further. All the while her heart pumped its irregular and rapid thrum in her chest.

‘Rome first,’ she answered. She seemed almost jittery now as well as scared as she reached the end of her tale. I even guessed she longed to finish it as quickly as possible now, as one would quickly rip off a plaster, as the mortal expression goes. ‘To explore the place, get a sense of Italian people. I didn’t speak the language and hoped to learn upon arrival like I did in France.’

‘Did you learn it?’ I asked, feeling her hand start to tremble in mine. I held it tighter as though to steady it.

‘No.’

‘What happened?’ I asked, knowing I was guiding her now with my questions.

‘I fell in love during my first day there,’ she said, but she wasn’t smiling. Her face was unreadable. For the first time since she arrived, she did look scary now, monstrous even. Wild hair like Medusa’s but instead of snakes, it seemed like fire. She pulled her hand out of my grasp and clutched her bag tighter to herself once again.

‘With who?’ I encouraged. ‘Come now Radha, do not be scared. You are so close to telling me everything’

She merely nodded but without any actual facial response which made her look like a porcelain automaton or marionette doll with invisible strings that nodded her head for her. ‘I fell in love with an American man named Robert Byatt. He was ten years older than me.’ She stopped again and closed her eyes. I thought she would need encouragement from me again, but when she opened them she seemed resigned to tell the rest of her story. ‘He was a history lecturer or so he told me, taking a year off to travel the world. Very handsome, well dressed, and always wearing a suit and tie. Oh, so mature, handsome and intelligent he was - I fell for him right away. We met in a little side café, off the main streets of Rome. I was hopelessly lost and asking the waitress for directions to my hotel,’ Radha smiled, rolling her eyes. ‘The owner had very little English and I had no Italian. Robert, taking an interest stepped in to help. We talked and had coffee together. During the next week we struck up quite the relationship. He said he wanted to tour Italy too, so we started to explore much of Rome together.’

‘Was he your first?’ I asked, noting how her voice seemed tinged with slight nostalgia at the memories playing through her mind.  

She grinned a little mischievously at me. ‘No, Prince Lestat,’ she said, a little amusement in her voice evident. ‘I’m surprised you asked. I had much fun in Paris, I assure you. But Robert was my first real relationship. Yet it moved quickly – too quickly I realise now. But I loved it – I loved him! He was the first man who really thrilled me, who made me feel satisfied and content in every sense. By the end of that first week we both know we would travel Italy together. And we did, spending months exploring every town, village, city. We adored the country and our lifestyle; travelling, fine dining during the day and making love every night. Such bliss it seemed! But cracks began to form, very slowly at first.’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked, slightly leaning towards her, paying attention to her every word, every slight facial tick.

‘Little things,’ Radha answered, ‘He lost his wallet – cards, money everything gone about a week after we left Rome. I didn’t mind – I had my grandfather’s inheritance and there was still plenty left. I told him not to worry, he could take whatever he needed from me for as long as it took him to restore his own cards and cash.’

‘Generous of you,’ I mumbled but secretly I cursed her naïve youth. But then again hadn’t I done the same at roughly her age? Hadn’t I shared everything with my beloved Nicki?

‘I know it was foolish,’ she said as though reading my mind. ‘But I was naïve and in love him. So we travelled on, but Robert started to grow frustrated. He said he was embarrassed that every time we went out, I paid. This made him feel emasculated, or so he said. He would grow so angry we couldn’t go out for dinner or dancing or even a walk. Instead we would stay in, I trying to calm him down, he yelling so loud about humiliation and me being greedy bitch that we were kicked out of two separate hotels.’

‘Mon dieu,’ I said exasperated. ‘Why ever did you stay with him?’

‘The million dollar question,’ Radha answered, but she did not smile. ‘Yes he was angry, but this was my first proper relationship. My first real love. And I thought this sort of verbal abuse was merely a couple’s fight. And when he was composed again, ah! He was so kind and blissfully happy, that it seemed we would never argue again. I inevitably gave him control of my money so he was seeing to be paying for everything. It sounds so naïve but he swore he would pay me back tenfold for everything. But other things issues started to arise as we reached rural towns. He would become possessive, almost manic. I was barely left alone. Even if Robert saw me talking to locals he would come over at once to interrupt and steer my away. He said it was for my own safety. Then he started to say that I dressed too skimpily, too revealing. He was angry I exposed too much of myself saying that I invited trouble by doing so. Again, I believed him. We were in an unfamiliar place and even though it was hot there, he made me rethink the clothes I wore. You know summer clothes; shorts, vests – those sorts of things. I didn’t want to offend the customs of the older towns as we explored. So, he started buying me new clothes – with my money - to wear when going out. More billowy things, long skirts, light cardigans, long dresses – I didn’t mind really. I thought they were pretty clothes to be honest. Then one day, some months into our relationship, my mobile phone went missing. Robert said I either lost it or I was pick-pocketed. Again I believed him. I didn’t realise the significance of what this meant. My phone was the only connection I had to my friends back in Paris, my true family. Every so often Robert would lend me his phone to send a text or make a quick call, but soon this stopped. He said we were miles from anywhere with coverage and it certainly looked that way to me. So now, I had no money, no communication with anyone other than Robert – couldn’t communicate with many of the more rural Italians if I tried and I was living life with Robert by my side more or less twenty-four seven,’ Radha paused and I could see her eyes were filling. She bowed her head, hands covering her eyes. ‘Now this all sounds alarming and makes me look stupid for staying with him, I know. But you must understand these instances happened far apart. And whilst he had a short fuse he usually collected himself quickly. Or perhaps I was blind-sighted by love. I’ve thought often about it. I think despite my bold demeanour, I was still that lonely Irish girl – even as an adult, so desperate to feel useful and wanted and have a companion that shared my interest that I ignored their faults. Such a smart woman, huh? All that time in college studying literature and I didn’t see my own doom?’ she started pulling on her hair with both hands. She made what truly sounded like the moan of a dying or wounded animal, tearing her hair so hard I expected it to come out in her hands. ‘Cailín beag amaideach!’

‘Radha, stop it!’ I demanded, getting up swiftly from my chair, kneeling before her and tugging at her wrists, pulling her hands anyway with ease, my own strength far surpassing hers. I was scared now too as I looked at her. I was terrified of how this story would end – even though I knew the final end. ‘Radha, look at me! Finish the story, you must finish it.’

Her eyes fell to mine swiftly and I saw only pain. Her grief was etched into her face, anger too. ‘I’m sorry, Prince Lestat,’ she answered, her voice barely audible over the fire crackling away.

‘Continue,’ I pleaded silently, letting her go but remained kneeling before her. Of course, I had been tempted many times as she spoke in the last few moments to add my opinion or to scold her but I couldn’t. For I too understood what it was to be so blinded by love that you couldn’t see the devil in disguise right in front of you.

Her hands clutched her backpack so tight I’m surprised she didn’t tear the thing. ‘Yes … well … Again, this didn’t seem so odd. My boyfriend was concerned for my safety, right? We were in a foreign country and I didn’t speak the language – he was protecting me,’ her voice gained a little more volume, but whether this was down to grief or anger was unknown to me. She looked into my eyes as I kneeled before her, holding my gaze steady as she continued. ‘As weeks became months, our plans quite suddenly drew to a sudden stop. I became physically sick often. I couldn’t keep down a meal. We stopped our rental car so many times so that I could be sick at the side of some god-forsaken road. I couldn’t do any of the tours or see the places we had planned. Eventually, when driving through a small town we found a doctor. I thought it was unnecessary really, I assumed I had heatstroke or something. But I went to see this doctor, with Robert as my translator of course. And there I discovered I was pregnant.’

I tried to see by her features whether this was a good or bad thing for her, but her expression had gone eerily blank again. Body lifeless as a doll. ‘The pregnancy came as a surprise, I take it?’ I hesitated to ask.

‘Completely,’ Radha answered. ‘I was having an adventure of a lifetime with the man I thought I loved. We had plans. We were arranging to travel throughout Europe, visit Asia, Australia. Having a baby wasn’t even on my radar. And Robert and I took every precaution. We made love often but we were always safe.’

‘So what did you do?’ I asked quickly.

‘I thought about abortion but Robert wouldn’t hear of it,’ Radha explained. ‘He said we were already so deeply in love, why not have this child? He said he would be there every step of the way and I believed that he would be. But still I was unsure and scared. After all, I would be the one to carry the baby. My body would go through the physical changes and give birth, not his.’

‘Fair point,’ I agreed with her, noticing a shadow creep over her face. ‘What did you decide?’

She sighed. ‘In the end, I had no choice. I was seventeen weeks,’ she answered. ‘I was told it was too late to terminate.’

‘You didn’t notice that you were pregnant all that time?’ I asked incredulously, wondering how such a tremendous change went on in her body and have her not know it. ‘You didn’t know that you're menses were late even?’

She cocked her head as though surprised by my bluntness but answered anyway. ‘Prince Lestat, I didn’t feel time passing. I was moving from place to place, week by week. I was living in the moment with who I thought was the love of my life. I was in a blissful bubble. I admit, about a week or two prior to finding out, I thought I was putting on weight, but I didn’t care. I just thought all that Italian food was finally catching up with me.’

‘How did you feel about it?’ I queried, not for a second able to imagine how she must have felt.

‘At first, angry. So angry. But, I, being the intolerable creature I am – I couldn’t resist the challenge. I began to think Robert was right, that we would inevitably get married and have kids anyway. This was just the fast-track way, right? Robert rented a villa outside Tavernelle Val di Pesa, a decent car journey from Florence. He said it would do us good to pause, put our plans for travel on hold and simply be with each other. He insisted I put my feet up for the rest of the pregnancy. But I soon grew bored there, such an isolated place with nothing to do. It reminded me too much of my home growing up. We started to fight more and more as I felt the walls close in on me there. I started to have doubts as I started to show more. All our plans of adventure and travel were gone by then. All we discussed where cribs, prams, birthing plans, hell, even bloody schools! I was scared that this was it; my life was to raise this baby and anymore we’d have. Finally, feeling I should go crazy, I shared this with Robert one evening.’

‘Did he understand?’ I asked.

 ‘He said I was being immature and that this was to be my life now,’ she answered, practically spitting out the words. ‘He said it was what all adults want. Well, that was it. I lost it, arguing that I refused to be tied down and used as a breeding horse. I cursed at him and walked out. Maybe it was raging hormones, maybe it was me being me but I’d be damned if I was going to have my life dictated to me, pregnant or not. I think he assumed I would be back quickly. Like I said, I couldn’t speak Italian, I had no money and we were so far away from anyone. I didn’t even have a phone. Perhaps he thought I would take a walk maybe and return on bended knee. But no, I stayed out for hours. When I finally did come back, I only went for a walk, but took my time, I was calmer. I planned to tell him that we were done. Of course, we would share parental duties but we would otherwise be finished. I would not spend my life having child after child like my mother did and stay in one place. But when I got back, Robert was drunk. He was so mad that I left. I’d never done it before – never defied him in any way. Prince Lestat, I’ve never seen anything like it that night. He threw things, he screamed in my face. Even I was silenced,’ she smiled a little but I could see the pain in her eyes. ‘He said I had disappointed him, betrayed him. He said he was worried sick. But all the while, he was hurling abuse. He said I was a common whore. He said we were as good as married and I should show more concern for him and our unborn baby. I told him we would never marry, that we were finished and he slapped me across the cheek. He said I was low-brow, vulgar, ungrateful, immature, a brat, a cunt … a whole host of less than pretty names. And then, dragging me into the bedroom by my hair, he said he would put me in my place. He quickly pushed me onto the bed and then, he raped me.’

She said the words so bluntly as she stared at me that my mouth fell open. How could he do that? Why – why would anyone? ‘But you were pregnant,’ I gasped. ‘You carried his child. Why – why?’ I couldn’t speak, barely comprehending why Robert would do that to the soon-to-be mother of his child.

 ‘He said I was his,’ she said lowly, her eyes dulled. ‘That my role was to be his wife. As good as married, he repeated it throughout the night. He even said that the baby was to be the first of many. Motherhood would be my next and final great adventure with him. I was a broodmare now. Nothing more.’

Why? I felt sick to my stomach. I felt nauseous. I felt horrified. I felt ashamed as it sunk in that I too was guilty of that crime. But to rape a pregnant woman? That was depraved. Utter violence and dominance over something so innocent and pure. My nausea increased. ‘Radha,’ I said quietly my own eyes fillings. I had no idea what to say. ‘Radha, I - ’

She shook her head and to my complete surprise, her hand touched my cheek. ‘Prince Lestat, don’t,’ she whispered, fingers brushing a tear on my cheek. Her touch was silk against my skin. ‘Please don’t cry now – you’ll make me cry again. And it was in my old life as I must so often remind myself.’

I didn’t even know I had been crying. I nodded, longing to wrap my arms around her, and hold her and protect her for as long as she needed – as I needed. But it was too late now. ‘What happened next?’

‘Well that was it, wasn’t it?’ she answered, brushing my cheek once more before removing her hand. ‘Spell broken – I saw him for the controlling man he was. Now I could go into the details of that night, but I think it would break me even in this seemingly stone appearance I now have. So for now, I ask that, you let me skip to the next morning?’

I nodded, too stunned to speak.

‘I didn’t sleep that night, I didn’t close my eyes,’ she continued looking at me, face still eerily blank. ‘I think I was too shocked to move. By dawn, I had gone to the bathroom, almost in a dazed way, to check if I was bleeding. I feared he might have hurt the baby or that I did because I was so terrified the entire time.’

I swallowed thickly. ‘And?’

‘No, no blood,’ Radha answered. ‘I planned to flee, quickly picking up my torn dress from the floor to leave on the spot. But he heard me and quickly dragged me back into the bedroom. He wanted me to stay so we could have a family there in Italy. He said I would feel so differently when I held our baby. He said I would know what he did was the right thing. I fought and screamed and in the end, he brought me to the cellar and kept me there. I guess he couldn't hear me as much from there. Even if I managed to escape, I wouldn’t have gotten far. Pregnant, penniless, no phone.’

I stood up and tried to compose myself, feeling desperately angry and full of grief all at once. ‘Oh Radha,’ I whispered, turning to the fire now to hide my tears. ‘If I ever find him – I’ll kill the bastard.’

Radha stood up behind me. Her gaze went to the window. The storm was finally quieting down outside the castle. Only a light mist prevailed, soundless and beautiful.

‘Can I stay here tonight, Prince Lestat?’ she asked suddenly.

‘Of course, mon chéri,’ I answered, looking at her form from behind. How my heart ached for her. ‘You may sleep in my bed – if you wish. It is probably too late to introduce you around the castle.’

‘Thank you,’ she answered quietly, removing her cloak in a tired fashion. ‘But the sofa will be fine.’

‘But your maker?’ I suddenly asked, barely listening to her, remembering that this was but the tale that led to the crime she spoke of, the one she wanted to report. ‘When did they come for you? Did they harm your child? Is that the crime you wished to report? The one you mention in your letters?’

‘Prince Lestat,’ she answered. ‘My maker committed the biggest crime of all.’

‘What did they do?’ I asked, quietly stepping up behind her.

Radha faced me slowly. She wore a simple plaid green shirt with a vest underneath, skinny jeans were low on her hips. It was very apparent why she wore the vest as the shirt would not have closed at all over her abdomen. No, for Radha was curvy, as I discerned earlier. She had large, full breasts that immediately drew the eye. Never in my hundreds of years living, in my history of vampiric lore, in any mind frame whatsoever had I expected this. I was shocked to my core by what I saw. My eyes fell to her prominent heavily swollen belly. ‘My maker took me at seven months pregnant,’ she answered, she rested one of her hands on the bump, but her eyes fell to me. ‘I died and was reborn in this form, frozen in time.’

 

 

 

 


End file.
